


Meet Me Halfway

by NZLisaM



Category: Bad Girls
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, POV Alternating, Romance, Series' 1-3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NZLisaM/pseuds/NZLisaM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Helen and Nikki’s growing feelings for one another, and eventual relationship, during series’ 1-3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One - Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** The rights to Bad Girls, its characters, and everything associated with it, including most of the dialogue used in this fanfiction, belong to creators Maureen Chadwick and Ann McManus, Shed Productions, and ITV. This story has been written purely for the entertainment of Bad Girls fans, as a way of keeping the show alive. No copyright infringement intended. No profit is being made.

 **Rating** : The explicit-rating is for sex-related stuff (when we get there). Aside from that, teen-rated.

 **Authors Notes:** I’m brand, spanking new to the Bad Girls fandom, having missed it when it screened on telly here. After devouring series’ 1-3 in record time, I am now impatiently waiting until Christmas to acquire the rest of the DVD’s. Thankfully I was able to watch the entire Helen/Nikki story arc; otherwise I probably would be tearing my hair out by now. From the very first episode I was drawn in by the smouldering chemistry between the new wing-governor and the prisoner in her charge, and from that point on I was hooked.

Even though the show screened years ago, I’m hoping there are still a few die-hard Helen/Nikki shippers out there (or newbies like me) to appreciate this fic. Regardless, the show’s too good not to write about. :-)

~NZLisaM.

* * *

 

**PART ONE**

Chapter One

HELEN: HER OFFICE

In hindsight, receiving an odd look from the guard at the prison gate, because you have smudged mascara on your face after a hurried application at a traffic light might seem amusing at the time, but it probably should’ve given her some inkling that this was going to be a really shitty day. If Helen had of foreseen just how rough things were going to get she might’ve opted to call in sick.

In the space of a few hours she’d been publicly humiliated in front of the entire wing by a prisoner, undermined by her own staff, and on top of that she had to deal with a boss who was a misogynist bastard, who saw assertive women as overemotional and unwilling to compromise. To men like Simon Stubberfield and Jim Fenner she was nothing more than a pretty wee girl, playing at being a prison governor.

Bright side, at least she’d fixed her makeup!

She had temporarily dealt with the issue of Nikki Wade by putting her on Rule 43. If only she could send the governing governor and principal officer into segregation then all her problems would be solved. Well not really – but imagining Stubberfield and Fenner locked up ‘down the block’, in side-by-side cells, was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

Running a hand through her hair, she leaned back in her chair. Nikki was another story. Sending her to the punishment block had given Helen no pleasure, but she’d seen no other option, had been forced to make an example out of her to make sure that every woman on G-wing understood that insubordination in any form would not be tolerated.

To make matters worse, much of what Nikki had thrown at her had been justified. She’d had every right to be furious over the inexcusable trauma her friend had suffered. The thought of the poor woman, in pure agony, locked in a cell alone, with no help in sight made Helen physically ill, so she more than understood where Nikki was coming from. 

After speaking to Carol Byatt she fully believed her story, was certain that she had indeed asked to see the doctor, and been refused. Senior Officer Hollamby’s version of events (complete with crocodile tears) just hadn’t stacked up, and if Helen could prove otherwise, Sylvia Hollamby would be out on her ear. Unfortunately, with no other witnesses, it was one person’s word against the other.

Her next plan of action was to show Nikki that inciting a wing revolt was not the right way to implement positive changes to prison policies. That slow and steady was the best approach, and that if they worked together, they could (no would) make a difference.

Now all she had to do was convince Nikki to see things her way. How hard could it be?

* * *

 

NIKKI: THE BLOCK

Mid morning, approximately sixteen hours after she’d been sent down the block, Helen Stewart marched into the cell she was occupying, heels striking the stone floor. Just inside the door, she stopped short, her expression morphing into one of fury, making Nikki wonder what the hell she’d done wrong now? She was sitting cross-legged on the cold damp floor, shivering, clad in nothing but a thin garment made out of some kind of untearable fabric. What more did the woman want from her? Was she going to take away that too? Leave her naked? She wouldn’t put anything past the screws. They were all as bad as one another, even if they came in a package as attractive as the one standing in front of her.

It soon became apparent that Stewart’s anger wasn’t directed at her (at least for now anyway) when she rounded on the female screw hovering in the doorway, and demanded to know why she was in strips. The screw practically wet her knickers under such a stern look and after more yelling from Stewart was dispatched to do the new queen of the castle’s (well, small section of the castle anyway) bidding. The new wing governor was quite the commanding presence, as Nikki had discovered firsthand the day before.

Nikki kept her face neutral while Stewart made a show of apologising. Crossing the room the petite woman perched on the edge of the bed looking all doe-eyed and determined. If she was faking sincerity she was one hell of an actress. To her chagrin by the time the screw returned with her clothes, she found herself actively listening to what Stewart proposed. Perhaps the new wing governor did care about the welfare of the women after all? Regardless, Nikki decided to play along for now, do what Stewart was asking of her, but if the woman thought she had somehow won, gained the upper hand then she was going to be sorely disappointed. It would take a lot more than this small gesture on her part to gain her trust.

* * *

 

HELEN: FASHION SHOW

Watching a scantily-clad Michelle Dockley gyrate on stage didn’t go a long way towards convincing Helen that it was a good idea to allow vulnerable women in a prison environment to parade themselves in front of officers and VIP’s alike. But the fashion show was Stubberfield’s baby so she had little choice but to live with it. Besides, the women were all in high spirits, and it was just a bit of fun really she supposed. Better to see them channelling all their energies into this, than passing the time indulging in more destructive pastimes, like bullying and drugs.

Seated next to her, Simon leaned in, smiling, “Isn’t it all going swimmingly?”

Plastering a bright smile on her face, she nodded.

Afterwards she sought Nikki out to thank her for her help earlier. Watching the raven-haired woman address a roomful of her fellow inmates had both fascinated and impressed Helen. If was easy to see why Nikki was so well liked and respected on the wing. In a few sentences she’d come across as kind, respectful, and approachable. If only some of the other officers could see the same potential in Nikki that she did.

“Nikki.” Spotting her on the stairs she hurried over. She couldn’t help noticing the colour of her shirt, and that red really suited her. “Listen, I just wanted to thank you again for helping me out.”

Pausing on the lowest rung, Nikki gave her a smug smile. “Don't think I did anything for you, miss.”

Okay, so not quite the grateful reaction she’d been hoping for, but it was a start.

* * *

 

NIKKI: CORRIDOR

As Nikki made her way back from the showers Miss Stewart called out her name, jogging over to her.

Placing a hand on her arm, the governor steered her back the way she’d just come, out of hearing range of the screw manning the gate. Thank god there were no other inmates in the immediate vicinity, because the way she was being manhandled by Miss Stewart made it look like she was in the other woman’s pocket. Shell Dockley would’ve had a field day if she had of seen them together. Not that Nikki gave a shit what Dockley thought about anything.

She had been expecting a visit from the wing governor ever since Carol had been shipped out yesterday afternoon. But when the woman started launching into an explanation, making excuses for her actions, Nikki was having none of it. How hard would it have been for Miss Stewart to come to her and actually give her some warning that her friend was being transferred to another nick prior to the fact, so it wouldn’t have been such a shock when it happened? When it came down to it Helen Stewart did what she liked, only seeking her out when it suited her purposes, or when she required her help with something.

So Nikki took great satisfaction in her next words. “Well, great. Even more amazing to me you can stick your job, miss.” To emphasis the finality of it all she pivoted on her heel, leaving her standing there.

Apparently Miss Stewart had other ideas. “So, you still don't think I can do any good, then?” she called.

She should’ve known the bloody woman wouldn’t be that easy to shake. Reluctantly turning around, Nikki walked back over to her. “No,” she said, her eyes drifting to where a screw was pinning up Miss Stewart’s version of ‘just say no to drugs’. Making eye contact, she smirked: “I think you do a really great poster. Very eye-catching. Totally pointless, but.”

Her insults had the desired effect. Looking pissed off, the governor blew out a slow breath. Nikki wondered if she was aware that some of the women couldn’t even read _said_ posters. Not that she was about to enlighten her.

When she started going on about protecting her ‘civil liberties’, she had to fight the urge not to burst out laughing. Was the woman for real? Was she that naive that she thought a couple of posters would bring about a momentous reform? Scare prisoners off drugs? Did she have any idea what it would be like, inhabiting such a small space, with a bunch of users withdrawing from drugs? Had she forgotten where she worked? All Nikki could do was stare, “Are you trying to wind me up?” she mocked.

As she’d expected Miss Stewart misinterpreted. “You’re not telling me that you take drugs, are you?”

She didn’t correct her. It amused her to bait the woman, to see the uncertainty cross her face as she wondered whether Nikki was having her on or not.

“No.” She deliberately let that hang, giving it time to sink in. As relief suffused the governor’s features she delivered the final blow. “I’m not telling you anything.”

With that parting shot, she walked away. This time Miss Stewart didn’t try to stop her.

* * *

 

HELEN: CORRIDOR

After her induction meeting, Helen accompanied new arrival Monica Lindsay through the administration office. Reaching the corridor, she addressed the officer waiting by the gate. “Can you take Monica along to Probation, please? Turning to the woman in front of her, she spoke kindly. “They at least can help you sort out your care arrangements.”

Watching Monica go, she was still mortified over the way she’d wrongly assumed that a grown man living at home being waited on hand-and-foot by his mother was the result of laziness. Turned out he had Down syndrome, and his mother was his sole carer. Had been his sole carer that is, until now. She questioned what kind of judge would sentence the mother of a disabled son (who relied on her totally for everything) to prison time? Well there was nothing she could do about that, but she would do whatever she could to help Monica. She intended to take another look at her file, certain that she was a prime candidate to appeal her case.

She had just turned around, when Jim sauntered by, happy as Larry. “Helen, maybe your poster campaign is working after all,” he approved, stopping in front of her. “Anything that targets that troublemaker Nikki Wade is just brilliant by me.”

A feeling of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. “What are you talking about, Jim?”

“She's just had a visit from the DST. I assumed you knew,” he said, continuing on his way.

Shit! How had that happened? She was torn between feeling sorry for Nikki, and disappointed that she was in trouble yet again. Did this raid mean she was a drug taker after all? Maybe she wasn’t the best woman on the wing to place her trust in? No, she was sure Nikki had just been mouthing off in the corridor, trying to get a rise out of her. Even though she’d only been wing governor for a few weeks, she’d never seen any evidence (until today that is) that the inmate was a user. She’d go and see her later, get the truth out of her.

Heading back to her office, she suddenly wished she was one of those officers who kept a bottle of vodka hidden in their desk drawer, because she sure could use a drink right about now. Maybe it was time she started?

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G2)

Helen ‘bloody’ Stewart had stabbed her in the back. Crouching down, tears in her eyes, she sifted through the utter devastation at her feet, that had once been her prized possessions. Her moist eyes took in her note book, torn to shreds, sheets of paper strewn across the floor. She reached for a library book, flipped through it, noticing several of the pages were ripped. Great, what was she going to tell the librarian? She’d probably be banned from the library now, one of the few pleasures she had in this stinking place.

She sensed movement in the doorway, didn’t have to look up to know Stewart was standing there, could smell her familiar perfume. “Nice work,” she muttered under her breath, deliberately keeping her face averted, unable to look at the woman her had betrayed her so badly.

“I'm going to make a complaint. They are not allowed to do this.” To Nikki’s fury she actually had the gall to sound sorry. She had been wrong – the governor was a good actress after all.

“But they're allowed to make me squat over a mirror?” she choked out, struggling not to cry, not wanting to give the woman the satisfaction.

“Nikki, they had good reason to suspect that you were dealing in drugs.”

Raising her head, Nikki looked straight at her. “Why, because you told them?”

“No, I didn't, actually,” Stewart fired back, her voice increasing in volume.

She continued to stare at her. “You liar.”

“Well, you can think what you like but the fact is, they may not have found anything on you but they will on others. And the women that don't do drugs will thank us for that.”

Nikki couldn’t believe her ears. Where did this woman get off! “Well, fantastic. I'm really glad you're convinced you're doing the right thing.” Picking up her blue plastic mug she flung it in her general direction, causing the younger woman to flinch. “Now why don't you just piss off out of my space?”

Overcome, she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a sob. The silence stretched so long that she’d almost convinced herself Stewart had left, except she could still hear her breathing.

Eventually she said, in a tone that conveyed disappointment. Actual _disappointment_ after everything she’d just been through at the hands of the DST. “You really let yourself down, Nikki.”

She heard the click of the door as the G-wing jailor (and that’s all she was, her _jailor_ ) pulled it closed after her.

Alone, Nikki allowed herself to really cry. She couldn’t believe she’d been dumb enough to actually think that the governor might be different from the other screws in here. It hurt, more than she cared to admit, that she’d been proven wrong, let down yet again.

* * *

 

HELEN: VISITORS ROOM

Just as visiting time was getting underway, Helen slipped into the room. After suffering through yet another ignorant remark from Sylvia Hollamby regarding Monica Lindsay’s intellectually disabled son Spencer, she joined Stella, the officer behind the desk, to discuss the visitor’s log.

While listening, Helen found her eyes involuntarily drifting over to Nikki. She couldn’t help it, the inmate piqued her curiosity. She felt they were like-minded, shared many of the same ideas and principals, even if Nikki thought they didn’t. They’d make a good team, she just needed to get the lifer on the same page.

She sneaked a glance at the blonde visitor sitting across from her. So that was her girlfriend? She was pretty. Of course Helen wouldn’t have expected any less, Nikki was a striking woman, so she was hardly going to have an ugly partner – female or male. Helen tried to recall her name from the speed read she’d done of every G-wing inmate’s file her first week on the job. Terri? Tina? Trisha... that was it!

As if sensing her interest, Trisha suddenly swung around in her seat and looked right at her. Helen tried to make out what was being said, but there was too much noise in the room to hear. Whatever it was, caused Nikki to grin in response, making Helen conclude that Trisha hadn’t been looking at her after all, because there was no way Nikki would be smiling about her, especially given how furious she’d been yesterday. Now that she thought about it there was a clock on the wall behind her.

Admittedly, she could have handled things better during their previous encounter. Getting cross at a woman who had just undergone the humiliation of a strip search and had her cell ripped apart in the process was probably not the best way to get into her good books. But when Nikki had thrown her apology back in her face, and then gone on to accuse her of tipping off the DST, refusing to listen when she’d said she’d done no such thing, Helen had seen red. Even though the DST hadn’t found anything, either in her room, or on her person, she still didn’t know whether Nikki was a drug user or not, because she had yet to get a concrete answer out of the bloody woman about anything. All her questions thus far had either been met with challenging smirks, or non-committal responses. It was incredibly frustrating, not to mention unproductive. Her efforts to get Nikki on her side were failing miserably.

Following yesterdays fiasco, she’d summoned the head of the Dedicated Search Team to her office and informed the woman in no uncertain terms that in future all raids on prisoner cells on G-wing were to be approved by her. She hoped her words had gotten through because she didn’t need the aggravation. As much as she was determined to eradicate drug use, she was seriously starting to doubt her approach.

“It’s a drop!” she suddenly heard one of the DST officers hiss, breaking into her thoughts.

She’d barely moved out from behind the desk, by which time the alarm was blaring and the two DST officers were leaping across the room upending a table and throwing an inmate and her visitor to the floor. It was disconcerting to say the least. This was the first time she’d seen them in action and their rough treatment of the couple suspected of passing drugs was making her decidedly uneasy. Was this what they’d done to Nikki?

A wailing sound interrupted Helen’s thoughts and it took a moment for it to register that the noise was coming from Monica’s son, Spencer. Her breath caught in her throat to see the terrified expression on his face, and Monica’s helpless one, as she failed to calm him down. While she wracked her brains trying to figure out how to deal with the situation, Julie Johnston (on tea trolley duty) got to her feet and started clapping. Initially startled by her strange behaviour, but hoping Julie had some insight knowledge into Down syndrome, Helen also began to clap, quickly instructing the officers to follow suit. Some, like Lorna and Stella, did as she asked, while others, like Sylvia, just stared at her like she’d gone mad. The prisoners, and their visitors, needed no such coaxing; they had already joined in, most of them having exited their tables to surround Spencer in a protective bubble.

And their perseverance paid off. It wasn’t long before Spencer was all smiles, thinking it a great game. Helen felt tears spring to her eyes at the way all the women had rallied together to support Monica and her son in their time of need. Although it tore at her heart to see how shook up the older woman still looked. Taking a deep breath, she looked up to find Nikki studying her closely, her eyes intense, demanding, as if to say, “See where your new regime leads?” Or maybe she was reading too much into it, undoubtedly it was her own conscience nagging at her. But she tore her gaze away anyway, unnerved by such scrutiny.

Because Nikki and her conscience were right, she’d fucked up big time! But admitting it, without looking like a fool in front of officers and prisoners alike, was going to take some doing.


	2. Chapter 2

NIKKI: SERVERY

“Jim, I don't need a bodyguard. I can handle the prisoners myself, thank you.”

Nikki smirked at Miss Stewart’s words before surreptitiously glancing at the wing governor out of the corner of her eye. The angry humiliation written all over Fenner’s face at being shot down almost made prison life bearable. It was good to know that while his particular brand of sleaze might work on vulnerable girls like Rachel Hicks and insane ones like Shell Dockley, apparently intelligent, ambitious women, who weren’t afraid to speak their minds, were _way_ out of his league. Miss Stewart wasn’t having a bar of _him_.

Sighing, she poked at her food with her plastic fork. Even though she more than approved of Helen Stewart’s approach when it came to dealing with male chauvinist pigs, the governor was fast becoming a thorn in Nikki’s side, one she was determined to eradicate asap. She was fully aware she was stuck in prison, where it was virtually impossible to avoid anyone, but it felt like everywhere she turned lately there was Miss Stewart waiting around every corner. I mean she’d literally smacked right into the woman less than ten minutes ago in the lunch queue. She had no desire to become whatever the equivalent of _teachers pet_ was in prison – _grass_? _Narc_? _Informant_? The sooner the _governor_ realised that the better.

Although, she was feeling more generous towards the woman since discovering that it hadn’t been her who had reported her to the DST. The other night something in Dockley’s smug satisfied tone when she’d yelled out to her after lockup, asking whether she had enjoyed her visit from the squat squad, had Nikki wondering whether the bitch had somehow been behind it.

Her suspicions had been confirmed the next day when she’d accosted Dawn (since she spent much of her time trailing around after G-wing’s resident psychopath) in the prison garden. Nikki knew the red band was in awe of her so all she’d had to do was smile and ask nicely, and pretty soon Dawn was spilling her guts, relaying the conversation that had taken place between Dockley and McAllister a few days before the raid on her cell.

She wondered which poor patsy Shell Dockley had coerced to write the letter? Dawn had sworn it wasn’t her, and even though Nikki considered Dockley to be a brainless twat she knew the lifer was smart enough not to risk signing her own name. Her money was on Denny Blood, she’d do anything Dockley told her to. So Miss Stewart hadn't betrayed her after all? Still it wasn’t as if she was blameless – the bloody anti-drug posters that had started it all had been her bright idea.

She risked another peek at Miss Stewart, who was now across the room speaking to Julie S., quickly averting her gaze to her lunch tray when the object of her attention looked her way. Nikki was feeling jittery, out-of-sorts, because when they’d locked eyes after colliding with one another, the woman’s probing gaze had been unsettling to say the least. In fact she’d felt so flustered that she’d brushed off her attempts to talk to her, and made a speedy escape. She told herself her reaction had been perfectly normal, Miss Stewart was after all a gorgeous sight to behold – any fool could see that! In fact it would be unnatural if she _didn’t_ notice how fit she was. Trish had been dead right calling her a babe. Thoughts of Trish made her feel guilty, that checking out another woman was disloyal somehow.

Nikki shook her head, dismissing the notion. It wasn’t as if she was considering cheating on her girlfriend. If Miss Stewart was determined to stalk her then she was free to admire her many fine physical attributes. Where was the harm in that?

* * *

 

HELEN: COURTYARD

Having been holed up in her office all morning pouring over budgets, she’d changed into a warm vest, and flat shoes, and was currently heading for the courtyard to seek some much needed fresh air. Descending the stairs she frowned to see Jim chatting to Michelle Dockley in the centre of the grass. This was the second time in two days she’d seen them huddled together, and it made her uneasy. She wasn’t quite sure what bothered her about their interactions, but they always looked a little too cosy. She made a mental note to question him at their next meeting.

Crossing the space, she took in a smiling Zandra giggling with the two Julies. She looked so much better already. Helen hoped this was a turning point for her to give up drugs for good. Near the end of the path she paused to remind one of the new arrivals, leaning against the railing, that her induction was at three o’clock. She was just turning away when Monica called out to her.

“Miss Stewart,” she said, hurrying over.

Meeting her near the edge of the grass, she greeted her warmly. “Monica.”

“I thought you should know,” the older woman said breathlessly. “I've sacked that awful solicitor who represented me at the trial, and I've hired a new one. He's already applied for a date at the Court of Appeal.”

“Good,” she approved, jerking her head as wind whipped hair in her face. “I'm glad you're staying positive.”

“Well, I've been talking to some of the other women...” She trailed off, her eyes drifting a few feet away, to where Nikki stood chatting to a fellow inmate. “It's helped a lot.”

Helen followed her gaze. Aware she was being watched; Nikki stopped speaking and looked right at her. Their eyes met briefly, held, before Nikki broke contact, returning to her conversation.

Damn she is a stubborn one, Helen thought, as she continued on her way. If only they could meet halfway? Why did Nikki insist on acting so differently around her? They were both adults for god’s sake. She knew the answer of course, because it always came back to the same thing, she was an officer and in Nikki’s eyes that meant she was lower than low. Well she was underestimating Helen Stewart if she thought she’d give up that easy. She relished the challenge, and the inmate’s antagonism only made her more determined to win the woman over.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G2)

Even though she was engrossed in _Silas Marner_ Nikki was convinced she had some kind of internal alert system in place where Miss Stewart was concerned, because she was acutely aware of her passing by, glancing inside. Pretending she hadn’t noticed her skulking outside Nikki feigned reading, only raising her head when she knocked.

The governors hazel eyes fell to the book. “More George Eliot? It's good to see the women using the library.”

And just like that she couldn’t have sounded more condescending if she tried. She might as well have patted her on the head and said, “Good job!” Apparently in her eyes her screws were all rocket scientists posing as prison officers, while the cons were as thick as pig shit.

“People in here aren't stupid, you know,” she informed her. “They're a lot brighter than your screws, anyway.”

“My officers are trained professionals.” Nikki noticed she didn’t say that they were intelligent.

Remembering the way she’d put Fenner in his place the other day she decided to bring him up, curious to see how she reacted. “Well, if Fenner's anything to go by you'd be better off training chimpanzees.”

Miss Stewart’s mouth quipped. “He reckons you're a tough nut. Difficult for difficult’s sake, he says.”

Even if she hadn’t of overheard their conversation in the servery, Nikki knew how much the bastard hated her. “Yeah. Well, I'm not in his fan club, am I?”

The governor jumped on that, like head lice on hair. “What's that supposed to mean?”

But Nikki wasn’t giving her an inch. Why should she trust a woman who two minutes ago had implied that her screws could do no wrong? And Fenner was one of those screws even if it appeared she didn’t think much of him. If she thought for one second that telling Miss Stewart some of the despicable things Fenner got up to would result in the man’s dismissal, she’d do it in a heartbeat but she knew that wasn’t the way things worked. Even if the governor did by chance believe her, she might change her mind once she spoke to him. As much as she hated to admit it, the screw was a smart prick, as well as an expert manipulator. If that happened, he’d make her life more of a living hell than he already did.

She just felt so guilty over Rachel, as she was sure there was something sexual going on between him and the teenage girl. Still, she’d tried to warn Rachel and she’d chosen not to listen, so why should she stick her neck out for her, if it meant more grief for her? Unfortunately such reasoning wasn’t alleviating her guilt one bit.

So it was with some regret that she said her next words. “You work it out for yourself.”

Maybe Miss Stewart saw something amiss in her face, because she still looked suspicious. “If Mr. Fenner's conduct is less than professional you'd better tell me, Nikki,” she demanded.

Her pushiness riled Nikki. “Look,” she said. “I'm nobody's narc.” She gave her a long measured look. “Especially not yours.”

Looking disappointed, the governor wavered in the doorway for a moment, as if about to say something else. Changing her mind, she walked away, the sound of her heels echoing down the corridor. As much as she didn’t want to acknowledge it the woman’s dejected look had gotten to her. Maybe it was time to ease up on her a bit?

Miss Stewart, Fenner, and Rachel aside, she was also stressing over her relationship with Trish. She had rung her last night, _twice_ , and both times it had gone straight to answer phone, after her girlfriend had said she was going to be home. Maybe it was perfectly innocent, an emergency at the club maybe? But then why did she have such a gnawing feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach? A sense of impending doom on the horizon? Returning to her book Nikki found she could no longer concentrate.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

After another bang up day at Larkhall it was nice to relax on her sofa listening to classical music. Although she would’ve preferred to be holding a glass of wine in her hand rather than a trowel, but given how much she’d been drinking lately, it was probably just as well!

Sitting next to her, Sean glanced her way. “You don't mind do you, Hel?”

“Of course not,” she said, scooping potting mix into a small terracotta pot. “I always wanted a garden. Just hadn't planned on having it in the living room, that's all.”

“It won't happen again, I promise,” he said, gently smoothing the leaves of a baby plant. “Only I need these potted by tomorrow, and – “

She was starting to get a little irritated. Why did he have to keep apologising when she’d said it was fine? Did she come across as that much of a dragon? She wanted him to think of this as his home and if that meant plants all over the coffee table then so be it. “Don't worry about it. It's quite relaxing, actually. I can see why a lot of the women work in the prison garden.”

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a stack of Sean’s gardening magazines on the side table. She contemplated asking him whether he’d finished reading them, wondering if a bribe might work on Nikki. Okay, so maybe that was a little underhand but she was fast running out of options. She sighed, the way her luck was going where the inmate was concerned the magazines would probably be thrown back in her face, just like everything else she’d tried thus far.

“Have you checked the potting shed for tunnels?” Sean asked, breaking into her reverie.

Another idea occurred to her. “You should come and give a lecture sometime.”

He grinned. “What, shut up with all those sex-starved women?”

For some inexplicable reason she thought of Nikki. “They're not all that sex-starved,” she told him, patting the soil with her trowel.

“Go on, shatter my dreams,” he said, nudging her in the side.

She paused, thinking. “Maybe that's the way in.”

Sean gave a shocked exclamation. “Come again?” So deep in thought was she that she failed to notice he’d misinterpreted, thought she was saying that ‘sex’ was her way in.

Still caught up in her own musings, she said: “There's this woman on the wing. She'd be a great ally amongst the inmates if I could get her on my side. She looked at him. “The trouble is, I've tried everything. She's not interested. But she's into gardening.”

“Let me guess,” Sean said. “Nikki Wade.”

She gave a start, hadn’t realised she talked about one particular Larkhall resident that much, enough so that not only did Sean know her name, but also automatically assumed it was her she was referring to when she brought up a woman on G-wing.

“I know the prisoners are important to you, Helen,” he said. “But that one's becoming an obsession.”

His choice of _word_ annoyed her. She wasn’t _obsessed_ with Nikki, she only wanted her on her side so they could work together to benefit the entire wing.

“Anyway, didn't you say she was a lesbian?” he said.

That got her attention. “Yeah, she is,” she said, confused over what he was implying. Why did _that_ matter?

He looked at her. “Well, maybe that's your problem.”

Huh! She continued to stare at him, still none the wiser.

“You're the right species, just the wrong variety.” He grinned, “You like your gardeners to wear Y-fronts, don't you, hmm?” Leaning over he kissed her on the cheek.

She gave him a small smile in return. Was he was right? Was Nikki unable to relate to her because she wasn’t a lesbian? No that was ludicrous, the woman’s closest friends on the wing were Monica and the two Julies, none of whom were lesbians as far as she was aware. No, perseverance was the key. She just needed to keep up what she was doing, make Nikki understand that she was on her side, that she’d do everything in her power to make life in Larkhall better for her and the other women, and eventually Nikki would have to start believing her.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G2)

Slamming into her cell, Nikki threw herself on her narrow bed having just had her heart ripped out in the visitor’s room, by the one person in the entire world she had trusted the most. Trish had left her for another woman. Was it possible to die from a broken heart? If so, a shithole like this was a likely place for it to happen.

Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the dank ceiling, eyes landing on a particularly massive cobweb in the far corner, without really seeing it. She’d suspected for a while that things had changed but hadn’t wanted to believe it. How many times had she phoned her partner lately, at a pre-arranged time, only to have her calls go unanswered? She’d also missed a couple of visits in recent months, even though Nikki had sent her V.O’s.

What was she supposed to do now? Trish had been her only link to the outside, the only thing she looked forward to. For some reason instead of the blonde, she pictured Helen Stewart’s face in her mind on her last thought. Where had that come from? The Larkhall wing governor was nothing to her.

Nikki had made it easy on Trish, outright lied and said she had met someone as well. It had meant she got to keep a little piece of her dignity, or made herself look like a fool in the process more likely, since Trish knew her well enough to know when she was lying. Not that she’d called her up on it. It suited her former girlfriends purposes to believe that Nikki had moved on, alleviated the guilt on her part, freeing her up to start a new life with a new girlfriend.

They still had to keep in contact since they were co-owners of a lesbian club, in a trendy part of London, and Trish had promised to keep writing. Maybe her new relationship wouldn’t work out and they’d get back together? She still had ten years left on her sentence so anything could happen in that amount of time. Hell, Trish could go through ten girlfriends and still be available when she got out. It was the only hope she had.

Maybe it was time to think about contacting some of her other friends? When she’d first gone to prison she’d stipulated that she didn’t want any of them visiting her, only Trish... but now? Would they even want to visit? She hadn’t spoken to any of them in just under two years (the length of time she’d been in the nick), so they’d probably moved on with their lives by now, forgotten about her. Besides a lot of them were shared friends she’d had with Trish.

It was official. She was stuck in here, all alone, with nothing to look forward to. The only thing she had left were memories. Where did she go from here?

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

She’d just found out Nikki and her girlfriend had broken up.

That is if Monica Lindsay was a reliable source of information, and Helen was certain that she was.

She felt for the woman, saddened that it hadn’t worked out, particularly given that protecting her girlfriend was essentially the reason she’d been sent to prison. And Monica’s words chilled her. Nikki wouldn’t really do anything so drastic as to hurt herself, would she? The idea that the woman might be desperate enough to self harm upset her more than she thought it would have if the information had of concerned another prisoner in her charge. She wondered what that meant – was she becoming too invested in one inmate’s wellbeing?

Sean’s words inadvertently came back to haunt her. _“I know the prisoners are important to you, Helen but that one's becoming an obsession.”_

Just as quickly she dismissed her doubts. Of course she wasn’t being _overly concerned_. Yes, Nikki was a strong woman, but talk of suicide, even in jest, was a serious matter. Helen didn’t think she was overreacting given that the suicide rates in UK prisons were significantly higher than among the general population.

She frowned at her watch, had expected Lorna and Dominic to have returned from the clinic by now. As Nikki’s personal officer, she wanted to make sure Lorna was apprised of the situation, and also find out whether she had any insight knowledge into Nikki’s state of mind. She couldn’t picture Nikki confiding in Lorna, because although the officer was a sweet girl, who genuinely seemed to love her job, she wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed, but she had to check.

She found herself wishing she and Nikki had a better relationship, wanted her to trust her enough to feel she was able to approach her anytime, be the one she confided in. She couldn’t help being envious of Monica’s friendship with Nikki. She knew she was being ridiculous, but wasn’t prepared to analyse her reasons too closely, unprepared for what she might discover. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

NIKKI: THE BLOCK

“And with any luck,” Bodybag said, disgust in her voice as she slammed the cell door shut. “You'll be transferred out of here. Give us all peace.”

Inside, Nikki tried to calm down, but was shaking so badly all she could do was scream. She was appalled at her behaviour, knew that if the screw’s hadn’t pulled her off when they did she would’ve likely killed Dockley. Where did such hatred and anger come from? She was no better than a wild animal. She’d already taken one person’s life, now she’d almost taken another.

Well if was all over now! When Miss Stewart heard about this she’d be shipped out for sure. It shouldn’t bother her, (did it really matter where she served her sentence?) but it did. More to the point she actually cared what the governor thought of her. Could picture the disappointment and resignation on her face as she realised she’d done all she could, and that Nikki was a lost cause. Sniffing, she buried her face in her hands.

* * *

“You shouldn't be getting nothing after what you done to me,” Dockley taunted through the tray slot as she whacked Nikki’s breakfast down.

Ignoring her Nikki concentrated on an old letter from Trish she’d managed to sneak from her clothes before they put her in strips. Reading it she could almost pretend her ex hadn’t dumped her.

Spotting it, bloody Dockley called out to the screw accompanying her and Dawn. “Sir! She's got a letter with her. That ain't allowed.”

Nikki raised her head to glare at the dobbing bitch. “Piss off, Dockley.” It really said a lot about this place when the woman she’d tried to kill less than an hour ago was not only allowed to bring her food, but also stand outside her cell taunting her. Why couldn’t they have sent Dawn by herself?

Come to think of it, why wasn’t Shell Dockley down the block with her? Yes, she hadn’t thrown the first punch, but she had instigated the fight by making that fucking sick remark about Rachel. Shouldn’t she also be in trouble for fighting? Nikki had scratches on her hands and neck, and multiple bruises forming from where the vicious woman had punched and kicked her as proof that the deranged woman had assaulted her back.

“Move along, Michelle,” she heard Dominic McAllister say in an exasperated voice. Then it was his turn to poke his head through the slot. “You're in it now, Nikki.” His tone was serious but not unkind.

Under normal circumstances she would’ve found it pretty funny the way his head was squashed up, peering in at her at an odd angle, but nothing was funny anymore. “So what? she said, glaring at him. “It's just another bang up. Throw away the key if you want.”

He sighed. “Nikki – “ 

“I'm fine! I'm bloody marvellous being locked up in here 24 hours a day.” Her eyes widened. “I won't swing if that's what you're worried about. Two in two days? That'd give them something to think about.”

He regarded her silently for a moment longer, all concerned and sympathetic. Then he was gone.

She left her food untouched. She wasn’t hungry anyway and she wouldn’t have put it past Dockley to lace it with rat poison.

* * *

She had no idea what time it was when she heard rattling keys followed by the creak of the heavy door, but it must’ve been before lunch because Dockley hadn’t returned to have another go at her.

A female screw filed in, while Fenner loomed in the doorway, obscured in the shadows. “Out,” he ordered.

Nikki remained fixated on the wall in front of her, refusing to look at him. “Why?”

“Cos the lady boss wants to see you, that's why.”

This was it! The end of the line! Obviously Miss Stewart didn’t even intend to waste her time giving her an adjudication. She was being summoned straight to her office to be told that she was washing her hands of her.

She dug her toes in anyway, refusing to make it easy for either Fenner or the governor. “Well, you can tell her to sod off.”

He advanced on her carrying her clothes. She noticed how neatly folded they were and it amused her. Which screw had taken the time to do that?

Stopping in front of her, he crouched down until his face was level with hers. “Up,” he barked. She remained still, refusing to budge, so he emphasised his point by shoving her clothes at her, and growling: “Now!” He didn’t strike her of course, he wasn’t that foolish, but his action still caused her to flinch even though she tried not to show it. 

Slowly getting to her feet, but refusing to let him intimidate her with his bullying tactics, she decided to do some intimidating of her own. “You must be missing Rachel more than any of us, Mr. Fenner,” she said.

He got right up in her face, his tone menacing. “One more quip out of you, Wade, and I'll – “ 

“Sorry,” she said, feigning innocence. “Did I say the wrong thing?” 

Tamping down his rage he spun on his heel and stormed out of the cell. Nikki smirked, pleased to have gotten under his skin, aware that it was probably the last opportunity she’d have to do so. Knowing that if she was transferred meant she’d never have to see his pathetic face again cheered her up immensely. Picking up her clothes she began dressing. Time to face the music – aka Miss Stewart.

* * *

HELEN: HER OFFICE

When Nikki was delivered to her office at precisely eleven thirty she had the doomed look of a disobedient pupil being sent to the headmaster’s office.

Of course that didn’t stop her from going straight into attack mode. “Suicide now?” she mocked. “That what you call changing things for the better, miss?” 

Helen swallowed, the inmates words hurting more than she was willing to admit. Indicating to the chair in front of her desk she instructed the woman to: “Sit down, and listen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Nikki ignored her, her eyes challenging her to do something about it.

Her dismissive attitude irked Helen no end, and something in her finally snapped. She’d just spent her entire morning taking crap from everyone, unable to do a damn thing about it. Instead of providing support and useful advice, the Number One and the Principal Officer, were determined to place the blame for Rachel Hicks' untimely death solely on her shoulders. Then Mrs. Hicks had jumped on the bandwagon, citing being in prison as the root cause of all of her daughter’s problems. As if telling Rachel that she’d had to put her baby into care the day before she’d committed suicide hadn’t contributed in the slightest. Even timid little Lorna had told her she wasn’t following protocol. Now it appeared Nikki held her responsible for Rachel as well. Well she may not be able to do anything about Simon Stubberfield or Jim Fenner or Mrs. Hicks, but Nikki... Nikki she could exert some control over. It was time to let the woman know exactly what she thought of her accusations. 

Taking a deep breath, she commanded: “I said sit down!” 

And it worked. Nikki flopped down onto the chair. 

“I'm not having this, Nikki. You're not going to undermine the good order of this wing.” She would not allow fighting on her prison wing, no matter what had lead up to it. 

Nikki clicked her tongue. “So transfer me. Put me on report. Do what you like. I don't give a shit.”

“Oh, when are you going to grow up and stop all this macho crap?” She wondered whether she was aware that when she acted like this she came across sounding like an immature twelve-year old? And Helen knew she wasn’t, having observed first hand how Nikki related to the other women (Michelle Dockley aside). She was fully aware of the lifer’s sisterly influence towards those who were young, and/or vulnerable. Not only that, Helen herself had caught glimpses of the intelligent, mature woman Nikki was – just not in the last ten minutes.

She decided it was time to change tact. “Why did you attack Michelle Dockley?” She already knew the answer. Several officers, including Sylvia, had overheard Michelle’s shocking and insensitive comment in regards to a young woman’s suicide, but she wanted Nikki to relay what had happened in her own words.

The prisoner clearly had other plans. Staring at her defiantly, she said: “I don't know. Touch of PMT.”

Helen took a deep breath. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy to get her to open up? When had anything concerning Nikki ever been simple?

Nikki had exited her chair again, striding purposely for the door, hell bent on escape.

It the woman thought she was going to get away that easy she was sorely mistaken. Helen was only just getting warmed up. “Sit in that chair!” she yelled.

Again Nikki complied. “Don't you wish it was electric?” she sighed.

In different circumstances she might have found that both funny and witty, but she was in no mood for jokes. It was time to lay it all out for the troublesome prisoner, tell her exactly how dire her situation really was if she didn’t change her ways. “The only option you leave me is to get you transferred.”

“Send me where you like.”

“Is that what you want? To be moved far away from Trisha?” Bringing up Trisha’s name was intentional on her part. An opportunity for Nikki to confide in her that the relationship had ended, since Monica had told her about the breakup in the strictest of confidence. 

And Nikki took the bait, reacted. “I don't give a toss about Trisha. She was getting on my tits so I chucked her.”

An obvious lie. Her way of saving face. Even if Monica hadn’t of mentioned how upset she’d been, Helen could see it written all over her face.

“Was it...” She hesitated, fumbling for the right words. “Was it a long term thing?” 

Nikki took her time replying. “Nine years,” she said quietly.

“Nine. That's a long time.” And she meant it. Helen had had plenty of boyfriend’s, but her longest, most serious relationship was with Sean, and they’d only been going out a year. It said a lot about Nikki’s character that she was such a committed person. Yet another trait to add to the things Helen admired about her.

If her next words were anything to go by, clearly Nikki was determined to view her empathy as masked pity. “Spare me your sympathy, will you? You probably don't think it's for real cos we're dykes.”

To Helen, that had to be the most insulting thing Nikki had ever thrown at her, akin to a punch to the gut. Did the woman seriously believe she was that judgemental? So thrown was she by the slight that she was almost at a loss for words, and when she did speak she was barely able to structure a sentence. “Oh, why don't you shut – just shut up!” 

To her credit, Nikki immediately looked ashamed; obviously realising she’d gone too far. Another emotion flitted across her face, one Helen couldn’t quite quantify. It almost looked like wonderment or awe, but surely she must be mistaken? She remained silent, regarding Helen warily. 

She took advantage of the momentary break in ‘insults’, moving out from behind her desk to pace the room, considering her next move.

Her next words were chosen carefully. “Isn't this usually how it goes?” she said, pausing in mid-stride behind Nikki’s chair, before continuing her pacing. “You break the rules. You're thrown into segregation. You come out more bitter and twisted than when you went in. And then it just happens all over again.”

“Yeah,” Nikki admitted. “That's about right.” She glared at Helen. “So hurry up and get on with it. How many days do I get this time?” 

Stopping in front of her, Helen smirked. “Oh, you love playing the martyr, don't you, Nikki? I'm not sending you to the block. I'm giving you a warning.”

“A warning?” This earned her a startled look. “Is that it?” 

Placing her hand on the back of Nikki’s chair she leaned in close. “I'm sticking my neck out here, Nikki. I don't know why, but I am.”

Looking overcome, Nikki blinked up at her. “Can I go now? Please?”

She nodded, doing the inmate the courtesy of looking away, as she could see how embarrassed she was. “Yes.”

The woman was on her feet so fast; Helen was surprised she didn’t knock over the chair in the process. At the door she glanced her way one final time, as if she wasn’t quite sure what to make of her anymore, which was exactly what Helen wanted her to think. Was hopeful that the woman’s thought process ended with Nikki starting to see her in a new light. As soon as she’d left her office, Helen afforded herself a triumphant smile. Finally a breakthrough! Her day seemed so much brighter all of a sudden.

* * *

NIKKI: CHAPEL

When Dockley started belting out You´ll Never Walk Alone at the memorial service for Rachel, Nikki had to grip the bench with both hands to prevent herself from rushing to the front of the room and screaming at her to shut the fuck up. That she had no right to sing at the service for a woman she’d literally bullied to death. She wasn’t sure what held her back, but thought it had something to do with the woman seated in the front row across the aisle from her. She was still trying to make sense of what had happened at their last meeting. Still couldn’t believe the governor had been so lenient with her. 

With everyone’s eyes focused on the front, Nikki took the opportunity to study Miss Stewart closely. She wondered if she had specifically chosen a black suit for the memorial? Regardless it was a good colour on her. Much better than the matronly pale blue twinset she often wore, although to be honest the woman would’ve looked good in a potato sack. Shit, now she was picturing her wearing nothing but a sack! 

Squirming in her seat she refocused on the singing, anything to avoid thinking about the governor in a state of undress. And it worked, her anger at Dockley quickly returned as she thought how ironic it was that a psychopath was blessed with such a beautiful singing voice. 

Following the hymns, Miss Stewart stood, making her way to the front. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “I just want to take this opportunity to say how personally devastated I am by Rachel's tragic and untimely death.”

Nikki couldn’t help it, she was riveted, both by the woman’s confidence as well as how well-spoken she came across. Jesus, what was happening to her? She was like a schoolgirl with a crush?

“And,” the lovely vision in black continued. “I want to assure Rachel's family and friends that no stone will be left unturned in our efforts to find the cause.”

The certainty of her words left Nikki feeling more torn than ever. She shot a look at Dockley, watched as she bit her lip, not out of guilt or shame – as if! More likely because she was worried over being found out. Slumping in her seat, Nikki again wondered whether she should tell Miss Stewart what she suspected about Fenner’s involvement with Rachel? But she was afraid. Who would protect her in here if it went tits up? Ultimately she had to look out for herself, because no one else was volunteering for the job.

* * *

HELEN: GARDEN

After Daniella Blood had told her that Jim Fenner had been having a sexual relationship with Rachel Hicks, Helen approached the one person she was sure could help her.

She located her in the garden, clipping flowers.

Nikki looked up as she approached. “Hi,” she said, and for the first time she didn’t sound defensive.

“Hi,” she responded. Even though she’d seen her wearing it before, she decided that Nikki looked cute in her prison issue gardening coat, hair tousled by the breeze. Conscious of her recent breakup, and still worried over her comment about ‘ending it all’, especially given Rachel’s suicide, she added: “How you feeling?” 

“So-so.”

Time to get straight to the point she decided. She needed answers and she needed them now. “Nikki, can I speak to you in strict confidence about something?”

“Sure,” she said, but Helen noticed she looked worried.

“It's about Mr. Fenner.”

To Nikki’s credit she didn’t react, just continued to hold her gaze while she spoke.

Taking a deep breath she launched right in. “You once said he had a fan club. Can you elaborate on that?” 

“What do you mean?” 

She phrased her next question carefully. “Well, what form this fan club took, for instance? It seemed an unusual thing to say.”

Nikki’s mouth quipped. “Are you asking me to be a grass?” 

It pissed her off every time Nikki hid behind words like ‘grass’ and ‘dob’, as it seemed so juvenile. Helen thought she’d left such terms behind when she’d finished secondary school, but here they were coming back to haunt her ten plus years later. 

“Nikki,” she said, her voice rising. “A young girl has hanged herself. Now I promised Rachel's family I'd investigate her death. I did expect a bit more cooperation from her friends.”

Turning away she’d only taken a few steps when Nikki called her back. Re-approaching, she tried not to appear too eager in case she clammed up again.

“I can't prove anything,” Nikki said softly. “And I'm not naming any other names but I did warn Rachel off Fenner. I thought he was taking advantage.”

Her heart sank, as the woman in front of her backed up what Daniella had told her. And Helen didn’t doubt Nikki’s word for a second.

She took a step closer. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

The inmate went beet red, gaze dropping to the flowers she clutched in her hands. “Sure,” she stammered. “No problem.”

With a parting grateful look, Helen made her way back indoors intent on locating Jim Fenner.

 


	4. Chapter 4

NIKKI: GARDEN

She told herself she was sprawled out on the grass taking advantage of the first mild day London had seen in weeks, when really she was keeping watch for Helen Stewart.

The governor had been on holiday for the past three weeks and was due back today. Nikki was surprised to realise that she’d missed her presence around the place. Larkhall just hadn’t been the same without her. She couldn’t believe she’d actually missed a screw, she must be mad? Not that she really thought of her in those terms anymore. Just prior to Miss Stewart taking leave, they’d formed a sort of truce, and she was eager for the wing governor to recognise that she was keeping up her end of the bargain and staying out of trouble.

The woman in question walked through the archway looking well-rested and relaxed. Spotting Nikki, she smiled, heading her way. “Hiya, Nikki.”

“Miss Stewart,” she said, feigning innocence, as if surprised to see her there. Although she hoped the fact that she jumped up from the grass like she’d been stung by a bee didn’t make her look too eager.

“How are you?” she asked brightly. Nikki detected a note of concern in her voice, since the last time they’d spoken was not long after Trish had dumped her. 

“Surviving,” she said succinctly, not wanting to waste time discussing her ex-girlfriend, since her time with the woman in front of her was limited. And she intended to use it wisely. Wanted to find out as much about her as possible. “How was your holiday?” she inquired. 

“Oh, I don't know that I would call it a holiday exactly,” she laughed. “Three weeks struggling with the instructions to flat-pack furniture.” A gentle breeze lifted the hair at the nape of her neck, causing the floral scent of her shampoo to tantalise Nikki’s senses. Being a keen gardener she could detect lavender, jasmine, wisteria, and an ingredient she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“No man around to help you?” she asked, holding her breath while she waited for the answer.

In response the woman raised one of her perfectly maintained eyebrows. “Call yourself a feminist?” she teased. Sobering, she added: “Sean's up to his eyes in work at the moment. The longer we're together, the less time we seem to spend with each other.” She sounded wistful, a faraway look in her eyes, and for a moment Nikki thought she had forgotten she was there. Then she smiled, refocusing. “Mind you, I did catch up with a bit of reading. Have you read Sophie's World?” 

“No, no, I haven't.” she said, trying not to let her disappointment show. She wished she had, would’ve liked that they shared something in common. But the prison library wasn’t the best, particularly when it came to recent books.

So Miss Stewart’s next words threw her for a loop, as they were spoken so matter-of-factly as if was no big deal. “Well, I've got a copy at home. I'll bring it in.”

For a moment Nikki thought she’d misheard her. Joy bubbled up inside her. “Isn't that against regulations?” she asked, to mask the fact that she was beyond thrilled over this special treatment she was being given. 

Miss Stewart gave her a conspiring look. “Well, I won't tell if you won't. See you around.”

“See you,” she said, watching the governor walk away with a definite bounce in her step. Taking a deep drag on her cigarette she decided she really liked this playful side to Miss Stewart. It made her more determined than ever to keep her nose clean, if it meant more interactions like the one they’d just had. 

* * *

HELEN – OFFICERS’ ROOM

Approaching the G-wing office she spied Jim Fenner and Sylvia Hollamby through the glass partition deep in conversation. Of course it stood to reason that her two least favourite officers were the sole occupants of the room on her first morning back. Not much of a welcoming squad!

Determined not to let them get her down, she pasted a smile on her face, striding confidentially into the room. “Good morning,” she said breezily.

“Morning,” her Principal Officer replied, his voice as flat as a pancake.

Looking like she’d just swallowed a lemon, Senior Officer Hollamby uttered a: “Morning, ma'am.”

Her three week break from Larkhall had given her a whole new lease of life and she was certain she could face whatever Fenner or Stubberfield (or anyone) threw at her next. She planned on watching Jim like a hawk, still convinced there was something to what Nikki and Daniella had told her. He may have managed to convince the Number One that he was innocent of any wrongdoing but he couldn’t hide behind Simon’s trousers forever. 

She was also feeling upbeat after her friendly and engaging conversation with Nikki on the way in. She had thought about her several times while on holiday, wondering how she was getting on. When she’d finished reading Sophie’s World her first thought had been to wonder whether Nikki had read it. Admittedly she’d been a little concerned that she might relapse without her there to keep an eye on her. Thankfully she’d been wrong. Today had been the happiest she’d ever seen her.

“So,” she inquired. “How did you cope without me? Was everything all right?”

“Everything's running very smoothly,” Jim answered. “Not one single incident to report.” Translation: In my eyes you are neither needed nor wanted around here.

“Excellent,” she said in a high-pitched, over-the-top manner. Turning her back on them she opened the filing cabinet. Now that she was getting somewhere with Nikki, she was keener than ever to see what else she could to do to help her, starting with her file. After checking under W for Wade, and N for Nicola, and failing to locate it, she frowned. What kind of filing system was this? It would be just like Sylvia to file it under T for Troublemaker.

“Can I help you, ma'am?” Sylvia eventually asked, making no attempt to get up from her chair to assist her.

“Well, someone better had,” she said. “I'm looking for Nikki Wade's file.”

“Any particular reason?” Jim said.

“I want to review her sentence plan. When was the last time anyone had a look at it?”

“It's not worth looking at,” Sylvia scoffed, while Fenner smirked.

Giving up on her search, she slid the drawer closed. She’d ask a more helpful officer like Dominic to locate it for her later. Turning her attention to the only male in the room she told him: “Listen, I'd like to see all the reports for the last three weeks.”

“Even if there's nothing to report?” he protested. She gave him a look that said she was in no mood to be questioned until he finally said, in a tone of voice as if she’d just asked him to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. “I'll get them to you by Friday.”

But that wasn’t good enough for her. “Today will be fine,” she told him. And with that she swept out of the room before he could argue further.

* * *

NIKKI: WING GOVERNORS OFFICE

“You used to run your own business?” Miss Stewart asked, walking past her chair, while perusing her file. She lowered the manila folder to look at her. “What did that entail?” 

To her it seemed like a lifetime ago, and she couldn’t see why it mattered now. “Hiring, firing,” she said non-committedly. 

She couldn’t believe her luck when Officer McAlister had tracked her down straight after lunch to tell her that the governor had requested to see her. Twice in one day – she must really be making a positive impression? Was it wrong that she was starting to enjoy being summoned to her office?

“And what do you do to keep busy now?” 

Nikki considered the question. “Gym, gardening – usual stuff, you know.”

Miss Stewart took a seat behind her desk. “You're not interested in education classes?”

Shooting her a wry look, she said: “Well, there are only so many macramé plant hangers you need in one lifetime.”

That earned her a smile. “I'm talking about the Open University.” 

“Look, in ten years' time, I'll be a 43-year-old ex-con with a General Studies degree,” she laughed. “Companies will be crying out for that, won't they?” 

“I'd like you to think about it.” She paused. “Please? As a favour to me?” There was something unspoken in not only the way she said it, but the way she looked at her, all intense, eyes beseeching. In that moment Nikki was certain that if the governor had of asked her to walk across hot coals she would’ve considered it.

To her immense shame she suddenly felt shy. Clicking her tongue she mumbled: “Okay. For you.”

Exiting her chair, she made for the door, but couldn’t resist one final sneak peek at Miss Stewart, before leaving her office.

* * *

HELEN: SERVERY

She couldn’t quite believe what she was witnessing? From the officers’ room she had a direct view into the servery, and she watched in disbelief as a female inmate withdrawing from alcohol slid off her chair, struggling to get back up. Instead of moving to help, Officer Hollamby stood idly by, sneering.

Walking out of the office, she barked: “What's the joke?” 

Shaking her head, Sylvia snorted. “Nothing.”

Bending down to assist Jessie Devlin, she glared up at Hollamby. “Come on, give me a hand.”  

Sylvia stared. “Sorry?” It was as if she’d just asked her to put on a bunny suit and hop around the wing.

“To help her up,” Helen said, finally managing to shift Jessie’s ample frame. Honestly, conversing with Hollamby was like pulling teeth.

“What? With my back?” 

“Look, if your back's that bad, you shouldn't be here,” she informed the lazy cow. She noticed Nikki standing in the lunch queue watching, a look of approval on her face.

With no help from Sylvia she finally got the poor woman back into her chair. “Come on, easy does it. There we go,” she comforted. Determined to bring her senior officer in line for her insensitive behaviour, she ordered: “Mrs. Hollamby, can you get Mrs. Devlin a cup of tea?” 

And it worked. Taking a step back, the woman gasped. “What?” 

“Tea, please!” she reiterated. 

Shuffling away, Helen heard her snipe at a colleague on her way to the tea urn. “We're nothing but skivvies, as far as she's concerned.”

Looking up, she met Nikki’s impressed gaze, as she walked by carrying her tray of food. She was smiling from ear-to-ear, trying desperately not to burst out laughing. Her supportiveness meant more to Helen than she was willing to admit.

* * *

NIKKI: HER CELL (G2)

Miss Stewart knocked on her door. “Hi.”

Having just finished washing her lunch dishes, and lining them up on the tray, Nikki spun around to greet her. “Hiya.”

“I brought you that prospectus,” she said, holding it out.

Taking it, she couldn’t help but grin. “You don't give up easily, do you?” she teased. 

“There's an English course in there you might be interested in.”

Glancing down at it, she sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. “Do you really think I can do this?”

“Of course. What's stopping you?” 

Her enthusiasm almost made Nikki believe she could do it. “I'm scared,” she admitted, looking down. And she was, scared of failing, scared of not being smart enough, scared of letting down the woman standing in front of her who was showing so much faith in her.

“Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that,” Nikki could hear the surprise in her voice “But you can only do your best. Give it a read,” she probed gently, heading out. 

In the doorway she stopped. “Oh.” Reaching into the folder she carried with her, she pulled out a thick trade paperback book, and walking back over, passed it to her. “You thought I'd forget, didn't you?” she said, giving her a cheeky grin, before exiting the room.

Smiling after her, she ran a finger down the cover of Sophie’s World. There was something intimate about holding a book in her hands that had belonging to Miss Stewart. She could vividly picture her curled up on her sofa reading it, her brow furrowed in concentration. Or tucked up in bed in her pyjamas – or better yet soaking in a hot bubble bath. Whoa, when had all that come from? Putting the book aside she reached for the prospectus deciding that it was definitely the safer option. At least until she got her libido under control anyway.

* * *

HELEN: LIBRARY

After handing a book to the librarian that she’d found in one of the classrooms, Helen found herself drawn to the table where Nikki sat alone, reading. Peering over her shoulder, she said: “Romeo and Juliet. I'm impressed.” Although it looked like she was just flicking through the pages rather than actually reading it.

Nikki smirked up at her. "Juliet and Juliet would be more my cup of tea.” Getting up from the table she wandered over to the bookshelf.

They’d never really talked about Nikki being a lesbian (no reason why they should she supposed. It’s not as if they talked about her heterosexuality) but now that she’d brought it up, Helen was curious to know more, so she trailed after her.

Stopping next to her, she hesitated, deciding to just launch right in. “Have you never been interested in men?” 

“Not my flavour, no.”

“But I thought – “ she broke off. 

Nikki shot her an amused look. “What? I just hadn't met the right one? No, they do nothing for me.”

Actually she had been wondering if that meant that technically Nikki was still a virgin since she hadn’t ever had a man inside her? She wished she had the nerve to ask. She was so easy to talk to lately that Helen sometimes forgot Nikki was a prisoner, and she was her governor, and imagined they were just two friends standing in a library chatting... as equals. She asked a more neutral question instead, but one she was just as keen to know the answer to. “How can you be sure?” 

“Same way as you are. If you are.” She spoke slowly, meaningfully, her eyes glued to hers. 

Feeling hot and bothered all of a sudden she wondered it maybe she was coming down with something? Sean had been coughing in his sleep the night before. To cover her nervousness she laughed. “I'm not interested in women. Not in that way.”

Nikki’s gaze remained fixated on hers. “Well, you should give it a go sometime,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Don't know what you're missing.” Her fingers brushed against hers as she placed a book in her hands. Grinning, she walked off.

Glancing down, her eyes took in the title. Oranges are not the only Fruit. Raising her head she gazed after Nikki’s retreating form, before returning her eyes briefly to the book. Laughing, she shook her head, quickly sliding it back in place.

 


	5. Chapter 5

NIKKI – HER CELL (G3)

She was having the best day ever! Well... maybe not _ever_ , but this topped her list as her most memorable day in Larkhall to date.

Watching Shell Dockley’s eyes practically bug out of her head, and her mouth gape open like a fish, upon discovering that Nikki had achieved Enhanced status, made every bad thing that had ever happened to her in this place almost worth it!

Strutting along the upper level, swinging her meagre possessions in a plastic bag, Nikki made her way to her new accommodations, courtesy of Miss Stewart. As she walked she was tempted to whistle a jaunty tune, but thought better of it. Best not to appear too cocky with almost the entire wing watching.

Having trailed after her, Dockley hovered in the doorway trembling with rage. Strictly for Shell’s benefit (because it was fun to bring the woman who envisioned herself top-dog down a peg or two) she made a show of sweeping around the small space, commenting on everything in sight in an exaggerated posh manner. Like curtains and a duvet were the most amazing things she’d ever seen. And in a way they were, she could almost pretend they were gifts from Helen Stewart herself.

Dockley was becoming increasingly rattled by the second. Nikki half expected her to lie on the floor and throw a tantrum, like a little kid, which would’ve been a satisfying sight to behold.

“Miss.” Dockley appealed to Bodybag. “That ain’t fair. She tried to kill me two month ago. She should be on Basic with the other psychos.” She stamped her foot, “Miss!”

If Shell thought Hollamby was going to offer up tea and sympathy she was relying on the wrong horse. “Don’t whine at me, Dockley,” Bodybag told her, shooting first Shell, and then Nikki a no nonsense look. “As if it’s my bright idea.”

Nikki mock shrugged. “Seems like it’s the governor’s decision, Shell,” she said coyly, as if it was no big deal.

Eyes narrowing, Dockley gave her a disgusted look. “You must be shagging her?” As if that was the only way Nikki could’ve possibly gotten onto the threes?

Heart pounding, Nikki quickly averted her eyes, both to hide a blush, and so Dockley wouldn’t see how affected she was by the idea. Last thing she needed was for the vicious woman to get wind of her burgeoning feelings for the attractive wing-governor, and that, yes, she had thought about what it would be like to kiss her, touch her, make love to her.

Surprisingly, a distraction came in the form of Bodybag, who incredibly seemed to take offense at the suggestion that a _governor_ would have a sexual relationship with a _con_ , and Nikki watched with some amusement as she shooed Dockley back to her own room. Stepping up close to the wall between her cell and her new next-door neighbour’s she couldn’t resist one final dig.

“See ya later, Shell,” she mocked.

Perhaps not the wisest move. Dockley was dangerously unpredictable even without a wind up, but Nikki was feeling too elated to care.

* * *

 

HELEN – G1 (BASIC)

Walking onto the wing, Helen glanced up to see Nikki high above her, leaning on the railing, as if surveying the lower beings beneath her. Well, she probably wasn’t doing the last thing, because Nikki respected her fellow inmates no matter what floor they were on. Even from this distance Helen could see how contented and relaxed she looked. Being on Enhanced suited her. Smiling to herself, confidant she’d made the right move, she decided to head up and speak to her. See how it was all going.

She’d nearly reached the foot of the stairs, when Sylvia Hollamby stomped down them, muttering under her breath, “Nikki Wade, on Enhanced! Well I never!”

Bloody hell! Was the woman still going on about that? She was like a dog with a bone.

Half hidden by the staircase, Helen called out: “Is there a problem with Nikki Wade, Sylvia?”

Sylvia spun around so fast, that it was comical to watch. It was obvious that she’d failed to notice Helen standing there. “Oh no, ma’am” she simpered, her face reddening. “No problem.” And she scurried away before Helen could correct her use of _that_ title. How many times now was it that she’d instructed Sylvia to address her as ‘Helen’, instead of ‘ma’am’? The woman had to be doing it deliberately just to irritate her.

Shaking her head, she climbed the stairs to G3. Nikki spotted her when she was nearly at the top of the last flight, and called out a breezy: “Hiya.”

Nikki’s excitement was contagious, and Helen couldn’t help smiling back just as widely. “Hi. How are you settling in?”

“Fine,” Nikki beamed, the late morning sunlight streaming through the large windows casting a faint glow around her. “Great view. It feels different being up here officially.”

As much as she was thrilled to see Nikki so happy, she needed her to understand that she’d put a lot on the line to get her here. So it was with some reluctance that she said: “Nikki, I'm sure I don't need to spell it out, but being on Enhanced does have its responsibilities. You know that, don't you?”

The prisoner blew out a breath. “Yeah.”

Helen moved closer, her eyes imploring. “I need to know that I can trust you.”

“I promise to behave myself and say my prayers before I go to bed, all right?”

Underwhelmed by her lack of appreciation, her shoulders dropped. Why was Nikki’s first instinct always to go on the defensive?

Her dejection must have shown because Nikki quickly back tracked, obviously realising it wasn’t the greatest way to thank her. “Look,” she said quietly, looking uncomfortable. “I'm not very good at this sort of thing but, thanks. Thanks a lot.”

A surge of happiness coursed through her - the sheer velocity of the sincerity in Nikki voice leaving her breathless. “That’s okay,” she smiled, continuing on her way.

* * *

 

NIKKI: GARDENING CLASS

She genuinely felt sorry for the poor man standing in front of her who’d been suckered into teaching a gardening class in an all women’s prison. If his ‘deer-caught-in-the-headlights’ expression was anything to go by, and she was certain that it was, clearly this was his first visit to prison. And undoubtedly his last, if Shell and Denny had anything to do with it, as Dockley called out yet another sexist remark. What were those two losers even doing here anyway? Since when had they been into gardening?

Had it been Helen who’d talked him into taking this class? Had it been Helen? If so, it made perfect sense. The woman was impossible to say no to – she could attest to that. Wait, when had she started thinking of Miss Stewart as Helen? She debated whether she could get away with calling her, Helen, to her face? She might just do it, if only to gauge the woman’s reaction.

Shaking her head to clear it, she resumed concentrating on what the guy (who had introduced himself as Sean Parr) was saying. The man really knew his stuff, and the material was both interesting and thought-provoking.

She was fully engrossed, hanging off his every word, when bloody Dockley had to go and ruin it, as per usual. Apparently it amused her tiny brain when the gardener held up two bulbs (one with shoot growth and one without), to show them the difference.

“Ugh!” she squealed. “They look like a pair of hairy balls. Can we get a feel, sir?”

Looking uncomfortable, probably because he normally encountered women with IQ’s above sea level, their teacher, chose to ignore Dockley (if only they all had that luxury) and ploughed on ahead. “This is a sign that they're not healthy.”

But of course, being Dockley she was far from finished. “Sir, go on,” she goaded.

He held the bulbs up higher. “Can you see this long spindly white shoot?”

“Sir,” Dockley interrupted yet again. “Go on, sir, give us a feel.” She imitated tickling a bulb, using her mouth and fingers suggestively.

Nikki, this close to throwing one, or both, of the bulbs at Dockley’s head, was poised to turn around and give the bitch what for, when a fed up Monica beat her to it. “Oh, shut up, Shell.”

Dockley glared at the older woman. “Don't tell me what to do, you stuck-up bitch.”

Pivoting in her chair Nikki stared her down. “Shut it, Shell. Some of us are interested in this.”

“Yeah, and some of us are interested in hairy balls,” Shell said. “We know you're not.”

Sighing, Nikki turned back to the front, addressing Sean. “So, you're saying it's best if the bulbs have no shoot growth?”

He nodded. “Ideally, yeah. If you buy them – “ Realising what he’d said, that a Larkhall day trip to the local garden centre wasn’t likely, he rephrased his words. “If you get them delivered as early in the season as possible you shouldn't find much anyway. But what you want is the ones that are heavy. They've got a nice, clean surface. And the bigger the better.”

The guy was sensitive to boot, Nikki thought. If she was into men, she might be a little bit tempted.

Egged on by Shell, Denny chose that moment to be an irritant. She waved her hand in the air. “Sir, I want to go to the toilet.”

Exiting her seat, she made a show of sidling up to the front desk, making a grab for the squares of tissue paper kept there. “Can I take some toilet paper?”

“Sir,” Dockley laughed. “Didn't you know? We don't get bog paper unless we ask for it. One square now, Den,” she warned.

Denny grabbed a handful of paper. “Sir, can I take four squares?”

Nikki was surprised she could count to four. She glanced at the landscape gardener who was looking from Shell to Denny like they each had two heads. Or one brain between the two of them. Take your pick!

“Sir, sir, we're only allowed two squares,” Shell informed him, as Denny trudged out of the room, cradling her trusty ‘toilet paper’. Dockley snorted with laughter. “You should put her on report for taking all of them.”

“You want to go give Denny a hand?” Nikki called over her shoulder. “It'd be a first, cos usually Denny wipes your arse.”

The room erupted into laughter. Even the only male in the room tried, yet failed, to hide a smile. He shot Nikki a grateful look.

Thankfully for everyone, her remark finally shut Dockley up, and the remainder of the lesson passed without incident, but Nikki could feel her next-door-cell-neighbours eyes boring into the back of her head, vowing revenge. Oddly, Denny didn’t return? Nikki wondered if she’d been pulled up by a screw for accumulating ‘too many squares of bog paper’, and sent to the block. Unlikely, but a girl could dream!

After the bell rang, Nikki hung back, hoping to ask the guy a few more questions, without the presence of Dockley-and-Denny-shaped annoyances. He didn’t appear to be in any hurry, even though it was after five o’clock, and pretty soon they were chatting away about all things gardening. Nikki was really enjoying herself; it was so nice to converse with someone different, intelligent, who shared a similar interest, instead of mixing with the same people day in, day out. If Helen was responsible for him being here, then she had yet another thing in the long list of things, to thank the woman for.

“Have you got a garden at home?” he asked.

“I haven't got a home.” Taking pity on him, because he looked appalled by such a notion, and also because she appreciated the effort he was making, she added: “Maybe one day.

“Well, if it's got a garden, I owe you a few hours weeding.” She gave him a quizzical look. “For the support. I was dead nervous.”

She decided not to spoil the moment, tell him that he had a long wait ahead of him – ten years to be precise. Instead she said: “You were great.”

She was about to ask him whether he intended to have another go at teaching when Helen herself waltzed into the room. Nikki hoped the pleasure she felt over seeing the governor wasn’t written all over her face.

If she wondered what Nikki was still doing there, she didn’t comment. In fact she looked pleased to see her.

“Hiya, Nikki,” she said, giving her such a brilliant smile that Nikki became lost in it for a moment. She’d always enjoyed the way Helen pronounced her name, how she paused between the two syllables as she drawled out the word in her Scottish lilt. Until Helen, she never would’ve believed her own name could’ve possibly sounded so sexy? But rolling off the woman’s tongue, combined with her radiant smile, made her heart speed up just that little bit more.

“Hiya,” she replied, hopeful that after Sean Parr left they could talk for a bit... maybe... possibly?

Helen addressed the gardening teacher. “So, how did it go?”

“It was hell. I thought about using that panic button you mentioned.” Helen let out a really cute laugh at that, the kind of laugh that did all sorts of things to Nikki’s insides. Her only regret was that it wasn’t directed at her but she hoped it would be one day. Looking down, she sniffed with amusement, both at Helen’s suggestion of using the panic button, and at the man’s restraint at not using it, considering how much grief Dockley and Denny had given him.  

So she almost missed the man’s next words.

“Anyway, home time.” He grinned at Helen. “And you're doing the cooking.”

Nikki’s head flew up, her eyes widening, as all the pieces clicked into place. Sean was Helen’s live-in boyfriend? The guy who she went home to every night, who shared every aspect of her life, as well as her bed. Fierce jealously, such as she’d never known, coiled within her. From the way Helen had portrayed him Nikki had imagined him to be a complete arsehole (or had she just wanted him to be?) who wouldn’t even take time out of his busy schedule to assist his partner in assembling flat-pack furniture? But this guy, this Sean, was nice. Nikki liked him. She swallowed the bile in her throat. Bubble well and truly burst!

Helen mistook her shock for confusion. “Sorry. Didn't Sean tell you? He's my partner.”

Dazed, all Nikki could do was stare. Why hadn’t Helen thought to tell her that it was her partner that was coming in to take the class? She would’ve known Nikki was going to be in attendance? She could understand why she wouldn’t want the information broadcast to the entire wing; morons like Dockley and Blood would’ve been even more merciless if they had of known who he was, but she wasn’t just anyone... was she?

More to the point why had she never mentioned to her that Sean was a gardener? She would’ve thought that if you had an inmate who was into gardening you would say something along the lines of: “Did I tell you my partner makes his living as a landscape gardener?” It was almost as if she hadn’t wanted to keep reminding Nikki that she wasn’t available?

She suddenly imagined one way Helen might thank Sean for taking this class and the mere thought of him touching Helen made her want to throw up. She wished she hadn’t of been nice to him now – should’ve let Dockley eat him alive!

Stepping closer, _her partner_ draped his arm across Helen’s shoulders, pulling her into his side. Was it Nikki’s imagination or did the governor look uncomfortable by his gesture? Maybe she just wasn’t one for public displays of affection in the workplace?

“Well,” Sean said. “You won't be calling me that for much longer...”

Nikki took a deep cleansing breath. As much as she wished his statement meant he was breaking up with Helen, his smiling face, and arm possessively snaked around her, made the possibility highly unlikely. The final blow came seconds later. “She's just asked me to marry her. Forced me to say yes.”

She couldn’t help noticing that for a woman who had just instigated an engagement, Helen was neither smiling, nor looked happy. In fact she seemed to be finding studying the floor more interesting than anything. But Nikki didn’t take much stock in that. For all she knew Helen was annoyed that her fiancé had taken it upon himself to tell a lowly prisoner about her private life.

Raising her eyes, Helen looked right at her. “So, how did you enjoy the class, Nikki?” she asked, changing the subject.

She tried to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, but doubted she succeeded. “Well, you learn something new every day.” Getting to her feet she walked away with as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances, even though her heart was slowly breaking.

* * *

 

HELEN: POTTING SHED

Why was it always two steps forward and three steps back where Nikki was concerned? Yesterday, when she’d walked into the classroom the inmate had been in high spirits, but less than five minutes later she’d gone cold, walking out in a huff. She’d gotten the impression that it had something to do with her relationship with Sean? But why would Nikki be upset over that? Helen was annoyed with Sean for bringing up their engagement when she had yet to accept his proposal. It also bothered her that he’d flat out lied – made it sound like she’d begged him to marry her, when in reality it had been the other way around. She’d come across as desperate-sounding in front of Nikki.

Scanning the garden for the familiar figure but not spotting her, she continued down the path towards the potting shed. She was going to make the woman talk to her whatever it took. Things had been going too well between them lately for her to allow Nikki to ruin it.

Jerking open the door to the shed, she stepped into the tiny, dark space, pulling it closed behind her.

In the midst of shovelling potting mix into a plastic pot, Nikki barely glanced up from her task. Just long enough for Helen to catch her pissed off expression. Obviously she was not pleased to see her. Well too bad – they were going to have this out whether the bloody woman liked it or not.

“Here comes the blushing bride-to-be.” Nikki was all sarcasm. “Kept that quiet, didn't you?”

“Sean had just asked me to marry him,” she was quick to correct. Hah! Now Nikki knew the truth. “Not that it's any of your business, actually.”

Still refusing to look at her, Nikki muttered. “Well, why are you telling me, then?”

Why was she telling her? If this was any other woman on G-wing they wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Why did she feel like she had to justify to Nikki why she was marrying Sean?

“I really don't know but I certainly don't have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine,” Nikki said, in a tone of voice that clearly indicated it wasn’t. Turning her back on her, she walked over to the window.

“You know, for some odd reason it seems to upset you Sean and I getting married,” she said, watching with annoyance as Nikki fussed with the pot, lining it up on the windowsill, as if she had no interest in resolving this.

“Odd reason?” she snorted. “That's a good one.”

It was as though Nikki thought she was deliberately pretending not to know what was going on, which confused Helen even more. “Nikki, what the hell is this about?”

Furious now, Nikki jerked her head wildly up-and-down. “You really don't know?”

She felt like screaming. How many different ways did she have to say it before she got it through her thick head? “If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you, would I?”

“You want to know what this is about? she cried, advancing on her. “It's about this!” And before Helen knew what was happening Nikki had grabbed her hand and placed it squarely on her breast.

It took her a moment to react, and even when her brain kicked in, it was several more seconds before she worked her hand free from Nikki’s grasp.

“Jesus Christ!” she said, jerking it away so hard she almost lost her balance.

Breathing heavily, her eyes locked with Nikki’s. She looked just as stunned as Helen felt, her eyes wide and frantic with fear.

Unable to look at her a moment longer, she broke contact her sole focus on putting as much distance between them as possible. Pivoting on her heel, she threw open the door, rushing outside, blinking in the bright sunlight. The officer stationed at the entrance to the prison further along the path looked startled by her sudden exit.

Throwing him a smile that was more of a grimace, she forced herself to walk at a normal pace, even though all she wanted to do was run.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

In the sanctity of her office, she sat staring at nothing, hands clutching a mug of tea, trying not to think about the fact that fifteen minutes ago one of those hands had been touching another woman’s breast.

Eventually she put the tea aside, it had gone stone cold anyway, and opening her desk drawer, her fingers hovered over the incident report forms. Not wanting to, but knowing it was her duty to record what had happened she plucked the top sheet. But as much as tried to focus, every time she put pen to paper the words wouldn’t come, and she ended up fidgeting in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck, putting a hand to her forehead to foster concentration.

Realising it was hopeless; she threw the pen down, reaching for the phone. “Can you bring me Nikki Wade, please?” she asked when the line connected. Receiving an affirmative, she thanked the female officer, and hung up.

Even though she hadn’t written a word, she tossed the blank incident report in the bin anyway, just in case it somehow possessed the ability to absorb her thoughts and feelings through osmosis.

By the time Nikki arrived, she was a wreck, having practically worn out the section of carpet beneath the window with her pacing. As soon as the officer knocked she was across the room, reaching for the handle, pulling it open, desperate to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible.

“Take a seat,” she said curtly, unable to look at her.

* * *

 

NIKKI: POTTING SHED

She’d made a hash of things. That was an understatement – she’d behaved like a fucking twat. Most of it was somewhat of a blur – she just remembered being extremely angry over Helen’s fervent denial. But as long as she lived she’d never forget the disgusted look on her face when she’d placed Helen’s hand on her breast, or the way she had pulled away like her hand had been dipped in acid.

Goose pimples broke out on her skin, and she rubbed her hands up-and-down her bare arms to warm them, but it didn’t help. Spying a green coat in the corner of the shed, she threw it on, but she still felt cold.

As she spread potting mix across a gardening tray, she wondered how had she misinterpreted it all so badly? Managed to convince herself that Helen Stewart might actually have romantic feelings for her. If possible, she felt one hundred times worse than the day she’d been down the block for attacking Dockley, waiting anxiously for the governor to determine her fate. Yes, her situation was identical in the way that she’d likely get transferred over this, but this time she’d also jeopardised (who was she kidding, more like lost) the friendship of a woman she’d grown to care for very deeply. So deeply she had wrongly presumed that it meant more.

Picking up the trowel she attacked the dirt, unnecessarily whacking the hell out of it, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Chucking the garden tool to one side, she put a hand to her mouth, blinking back the tears. But her attempts were in vain and pretty soon she was crying bitterly over everything she’d lost through her sheer act of stupidity. 

Sometime later the door opened, and for one hopeful moment she thought it was Helen returning, but it was just a female screw.

“The governor wants to see you,” she informed her.

Feeling sick, Nikki reluctantly trailed her out.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HELEN’S OFFICE

“Take a seat,” Helen said curtly, shutting her office door with a rattle.

Shuffling to the chair like an intoxicated person trying to walk a straight line, she perched herself on the edge, clasping her hands together. She attempted to catch Helen’s eye as she strode over to her desk but the woman kept her gaze averted.

“Look, I'm sorry,” she fumbled. “I was out of order. I – “

But the governor cut her off, her voice rising in both pitch and volume. “I don't care what you were, Nikki. You'll understand if I'm blunt. Now, I know that you're a lesbian and you're comfortable and so on with that. But I'm a heterosexual, and I'm going to get married very soon.” Speaking rapidly, she paced behind her desk, her gaze all over the show, as if she didn’t know quite where to look or go. “I find your behaviour inappropriate. You seem to want to go out of your way to make me feel uncomfortable.”

Nikki’s head shot up. “Why would I do that?” she cried. Did Helen really think she’d deliberately taunted her? For what... fun?

Their eyes collided – held. The desperation in her voice, as well as the anguish in her eyes must’ve been evident because Helen’s tone softened. “I like you, Nikki. I've encouraged you to do a degree. I've put you on Enhanced.” She looked down. “But everything that I have done for you I have done for professional reasons. Now, I can assure you that's the case.”

Hanging her head, Nikki spoke in monotone. “Fine. If you say so.” Having resigned herself to the fact that in Helen’s eyes there was nothing between them, she just wanted to escape, but instead she was forced to sit there and allow the woman to make her feel lower than she already did.

The governor gritted her teeth, her expression firm. “If you ever do anything like that again...” For a beat they regarded each other in silence before Helen spoke again. “Nikki, even if I were attracted to you... which I'm not, there is no way we could have a relationship. I mean, for a start, I would be sacked.”

Frowning, Nikki blinked. Hang on a minute! What was Helen saying? Why was she going to the trouble of listing all the reasons why they couldn’t be together? A spark of hope ignited within her. She could only think of one reason – because she had considered it?

Determination in her voice, Helen barrelled on, her suggestions getting more ridiculous by the second. “Now, what I'm trying to say to you is find another focus for your attention. Get back with Trisha, anything, but don't waste your time on me,” she pleaded.

Nikki had had it. She wasn’t prepared to listen to anymore of this shit. “Well, I'm sorry to have caused you so much trouble, miss.” Jumping up from her chair at the speed of light, she stormed across the room, and throwing open the door, slammed it closed behind her.

Outside, she paused, breathing in deeply, now convinced without a shadow of a doubt that Helen did indeed have feelings for her. Unfortunately for them both she wasn’t willing to acknowledge them. She’d implied it was to protect her job, but there were undoubtedly other factors involved as well. Sean for one, the fact that she was a con serving life for killing a man, and possibly because she couldn’t fathom desiring another woman. The bottom line was, Helen was in such deep denial, that things between them seemed more hopeless than ever.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

She’d hoped a run would clear her head but she supposed she couldn’t expect miracles. Letting herself into her flat, she threw her keys down on the hall table, and stalked towards the kitchen.

She was disappointed over the way her meeting had ended with Nikki. By the angry way she’d stalked out of her office, the woman seemed intent on blaming her for everything that had happened... and that hurt. And it angered her to think that all the things she’d done for her in the past three months had been thrown back in her face. The equivalent of a slap in the face. In one instance (make that one boob grab) they were back to being _them_ and _us_ , enemies on opposite sides of the bars. Just when she’d started to think of Nikki as a friend.

Obviously she’d been alone in believing they were friends, given what had occurred today. Had she somehow, without realising it, given Nikki the wrong idea? Been overfriendly? Flirtatious? Touchy-Feely? She’d been raking her brains since the _potting shed incident,_ running every interaction, every conversation they’d ever had through her head but as far as she could tell she’d behaved above board on every occasion.

Opening the fridge, she bent down, reaching for the carton of orange juice.

She’d been telling the truth when she’d told Nikki she liked her. She did like her... as a friend. Not only did she like her, she wanted Nikki to make the most of her time in prison, get an education, be productive, increase her chances for an early release, so that when she got out she was better prepared for life on the outside. She couldn’t understand how Nikki had interpreted things so wrong?

While pouring herself some juice, she wondered if maybe she needed to rethink her approach when dealing with the women in general? Prisons were rife with lesbians, and she couldn’t risk this ever happening again. Her career, that she’d worked so hard to achieve for the past ten years, would be finished before she could even utter the name Stubberfield. She almost wished she could distribute a questionnaire throughout G-wing, ' _If your governor, Helen Stewart, has ever behaved towards you in an untoward manner, tick here!'_ Maybe when the results were compiled, then she’d be able to convince Nikki that she hadn’t led her on.

She supposed it was only a matter of time before an inmate developed feelings for her, similar to a student having a crush on a teacher. They had covered such scenarios in training, although there hadn’t been a segment on what to do if a prisoner places your hand on their breast. Helen still couldn’t quite believe Nikki had actually done such a thing. What did she think was going to happen after? Had she thought she would enjoy it? And then what, a shag on the grubby wooden floor of the potting shed? She felt her face flush at the thought, warmth spreading through her body, which she put down to embarrassment and the fact that she was still cooling down from her run. Definitely not because she was turned on in any way – she wasn’t! Nikki’s suggestion that she returned her feelings was completely mad. She had told Nikki she wasn’t interested in women that day in the library, and she had a live in-boyfriend, correction _fiancé_ , as Nikki was fully aware.

Grabbing her drink, she took a swig, carrying it through to the living room. She’d just flopped down on the sofa on her back, propping her sneakered feet up on the arm rest, when she heard Sean arrive home.

“Hel!” he called out, rushing into the room, stopping short as he took in her appearance. Annoyance crossed his face. “Hey, I thought we were supposed to be going out to dinner.”

Crap! She’d totally forgotten that they were meant to be meeting Mark and Sue to celebrate her and Sean’s impending nuptials. Releasing a huge sigh she muttered under her breath. “Shit.”

Sean glanced at his watch. “Well, you better have a shower quick. We're late.”

All she wanted to do was lie here, and not think. If it was possible to switch her brain off she would. “Do you mind if we leave it for another time?” she asked. “I really don't feel like eating.”

“Of course you do,” he said, shrugging off his jacket, making to head to the bedroom to change. “Once we're there, you'll be fine.”

That got her back up, because she really hated it when people told her what to do, like she didn’t know her own mind. “I don't!” she snapped, causing him to turn back. At his hurt look, she took a deep breath. “I'd rather stay in, if that's all right with you.” She added the last part, hoping to placate him, and because she had no intention of budging.

Finally, he noticed that something was wrong. “Are you all right?” Since she had no idea where to even begin to answer that, she simply stared at him.

He walked towards her. “You don't seem yourself,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the sofa facing her.

“I'm fine,” she said, the words coming out harsher than she’d intended.

“You're not regretting already, are you?”

She shot him a puzzled look, uncertain what he was on about. This was happening to her a lot lately. She was starting to think that everyone around her was speaking gibberish.

He hesitated. “You know, about getting married?”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Why did everything always come back to his marriage proposal? Was he that insecure that he had to keep asking her every five seconds whether she was sure? She’d never been one of those women who from the moment they got engaged that was all they talked about, and if he thought she was then he didn’t know her at all. “Oh, don't be stupid,” she said.

But apparently insulting him wasn’t the greatest way to reassure him. “Well, look,” he sighed. “We can always put it off for a while, you know, if you feel not ready for it.”

For some inexplicable reason his words caused her to panic. Of course she was ready for it? Why did he think she wasn’t ready? Sitting up, she shuffled towards him. “Sean it's only dinner that I want to put off.” Chopping a hand through the air to emphasis the certainty of her next words, she said: “Look, I love you, and I want to get married as soon as we can, okay?” 

To her ears, her words of endearment sounded hollow, but Sean didn’t appear to notice. Smiling, he leaned in and placed a gentle, almost chaste kiss on her lips. To squash the doubts she was starting to have, she pulled him back, kissing him harder. And it was pleasant – she enjoyed it. She gave a sigh of relief. Everything was going to be okay. It was just taking her longer to adjust to the idea of marriage that’s all. She’d always been somewhat of a commitment-phobe.

Feeling better, she stood up, stretching. “I’m gonna take a bath.”

“Hold up,” Sean said, making a grab for her hand. “I know we’re not going out, but shouldn’t we do something to mark this momentous occasion?” He winked. “I happen to know there’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge.”

“Later,” she promised. “Let me get out of these grimy clothes first.”

“Need a hand?” he grinned.

And just like that her doubts returned. It worried her that she had to stop herself from grimacing at his suggestion. She told herself it had nothing to do with Sean, that she was simply too emotionally drained following the day’s events and that she would have baulked at the idea of sex with anyone. She couldn’t quite convince herself.

She shook her head. “No thanks. I really need some time alone. It’s been one of those days, ya know.”

“Well, I’d better give Mark and Sue a ring,” he said, reaching for the phone. “Tell them we can’t make it. I’ll say you had to work late.”

“Fine,” she replied, heading for the bathroom.

* * *

While she waited for the bath to fill, she studied her reflection in the mirror, screwing up her nose at how awful she looked. There were dark circles under her eyes and her skin looked dull and ashen. Nikki had called her a blushing bride-to-be – corpse bride-to-be more like. She really needed to book herself in for a facial, stat.

Unzipping her sweatshirt, and pulling it free, she threw it over the towel rail, clicking her tongue when it missed its mark and slid to the floor. Clad in just her sports crop top her eyes were automatically drawn to her breasts.

Staring at them, unwittingly led to thoughts of other breasts, specifically one in particular she’d touched earlier today. Of its own accord her right hand drifted to her left breast. Eyes fluttering closed, she held her hand still, trying to recreate what touching Nikki had felt like. Her own nipple hardened beneath her top, just as Nikki’s had been erect in the thin tank top she’d been wearing. The other woman’s nipple had definitely been larger than hers she decided. Her breath hitched in her throat, excited by the thought. Moving her hand she grazed her nipple with her fingertips, feeling it pebble even further. A moan escaped her parted lips.

The sound of water striking wood saw her eyes fly open. What was that? It took her a further moment to comprehend that the bath was overflowing, by which time quite a lot of water had sloshed over the rim onto the floor.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, diving across the small space, plunging one hand into the water to remove the plug, while frantically twisting off first the hot tap, then the cold, with the other. Thank god she hadn’t gotten around to adding the bubble bath.

Straightening, she surveyed the mess in dismay, her trainers squelching on the sodden bathmat. Luckily it had absorbed the majority of the overflow because water was death for hardwood floors.

A knock on the door made her jump. “Everything all right in there, Hel?” Sean called.

_Oh just peachy,_ she thought. _Just touching myself and fantasising over someone who isn’t you._

“Yeah,” she replied, stepping over the puddle of water to grab the mop and bucket from the corner.

Listening to his footsteps fade away she decided that she hated Sean calling her ‘Hel’ almost as much as Sylvia Hollamby calling her ‘ma’am’.


	6. Chapter 6

NIKKI: SERVERY

As difficult as it was, Nikki was trying her best to keep busy while she dealt with Helen’s rejection. She hadn’t spoken to her in days (not that the woman was likely to approach her) given what had happened. Not to mention that the day after the governor had informed her that a relationship between them was a no go, Nikki had then gone and made a total dick of herself. Not only had she embarrassed Helen, she’d come across as an ungrateful bitch.

Helen and Monica had been walking along the G3 landing, when the older woman had called out to her: “We've all got faith in you (Helen), haven't we, Nikki? Haven't we all got faith in Helen?” Nikki remembered looking at Helen like she was a piece of dirt on the bottom of her shoe, and in a sarcastic tone, replied: “Oh yeah, loads of faith.” She still couldn’t think about it now without feeling mortified over the way she’d behaved. 

This morning she’d been so starved for even a glimpse of Helen that she’d stood at her cell window for over half an hour hoping to catch sight of her arriving. And her perseverance had paid off, Helen had strolled into view looking every bit as glorious as she’d remembered. Nikki could’ve sworn that at one point she’d glanced up at her window and had seen her standing there, but maybe she’d been overreaching. Next thing she’d spilled coffee on her hand, from the takeaway cup she carried. No surprise there given the shitload of files she’d been carrying. She’d wondered whether one of the files was hers?

Then frickin’ Fenner had come along and ruined it, joining her at the window, commenting on the governors tardiness. The nasty prick.

Speaking of nasty, Dockley chose that moment to enter the servery. Joining the breakfast queue, she looked decidedly worse for wear, dressed in civilian clothes. She’d been stripped of all her privileges, including her job in the kitchen, after Dominic McAllister and Lorna Rose had found drugs in her cell. But the best news of all was that because of it she’d been moved back to Basic (G1), meaning she was no longer Nikki’s next-door-cell-neighbour, queening it up on G3.

As she passed by with her tray, Nikki took the opportunity to take the piss. “You enjoying life back on Basic, Dockley?” She looked her up and down. “Looks like it.”

Just as she’d hoped her remark caused the woman to go ape-shit. “I'm gonna be back on the Threes sooner than any of you wankers think!” she screeched.

“Yeah?” Nikki raised an eyebrow. “Well, us wankers won't bother holding our breath, all right?” 

Abandoning her place in line, Dockley stalked off, throwing her tray down on a table on her way out. Her mug went flying, clattering to the floor. At the gate, she spun around. “I'm only down here cos of that bitch Lorna Rose!” she screamed. 

A collective chorus of “Oooooooo,” echoed throughout the servery, as the women made fun of Shell’s tantrum.

Nikki shook her head. “My arse,” she muttered to herself. Dockley was full of crap. Lorna Rose wouldn’t say boo to a ghost, let alone supply an inmate with drugs.

* * *

 

HELEN: NIKKI’S CELL

She knew she should stay away, but she told herself it was entirely reasonable for her to want to ascertain how an inmate was holding up under the circumstances. It wasn’t as though she were heading to Nikki’s cell for her own agenda, even if a part of her craved comfort and reassurance. It had nearly killed her, breaking the awful news to Monica that her son, Spencer, had died suddenly of a heart attack.

Stopping in the doorway she remained silent waiting for Nikki to notice her.

From her position seated on the edge of her bed, the dark-haired woman raised her head, despair radiating from her every fibre. “They'd never been apart,” she said, disgust in her voice. “Not once in thirty years.”

“I know. I know,” Helen moaned. Unable to keep still she moved about the small space with jerky movements, talking with her hands. “I know everything that you're gonna say. And I agree. You're going to tell me that Spencer was serving a sentence too. Now he's dead because of it. I know that. I do know.”

And she did feel guilty. Wished that she’d allocated more time to help her with her appeal, pushed harder to get Monica her home visit earlier than it had been scheduled for. Maybe if Spencer had of spent the day with his mum then that would have been enough to somehow prevent his heart attack. Wasn’t stress one of the major factors associated with heart attacks?

“How can you do it?” Nikki accused. “How can you go home at night knowing that that woman is banged up in a little brick box miles from her son's body? Raising her voice, she said: “What the shit kind of torture do you think she's going through?”

Why did she always insist on blaming her for everything that went wrong in Larkhall? Didn’t she realise that there was only so much she could do? That she tried her best, but some things were outside of her control. She knew of the internal politics she was up against on a daily basis, as well as the restrictions placed on her by the rules and laws governing this country.

She wavered for a moment, unsure whether she should ask of the woman her next request. But neither her, nor her officers, could be around all the time to watch out for Monica, and she trusted Nikki completely to do this. Trusted her more than any other person in this prison.

Biting her lip, she moved in closer. “I know what she's going through. That's why I've come to see you. To ask you to be a good friend to her because she needs one just now, all right?” The last two words were delivered with the same finality a mother uses to reprimand a disobedient child.

Naturally that went down like a lead balloon. Nikki tossed her head. “You. Amaze. Me.” Helen wasn’t sure if she meant it as, ‘I don’t need you to tell me how to be any kind of friend’ or ‘What right do you have to ask me for anything after the way you’ve been treating me’.

“I didn't come here for a debate,” she said, swinging around. 

She’d said her piece, knew with certainty that Nikki would help, not because she’d asked her to, but because she was a good person – a good friend. But as she crossed the room she was still fuming because everything with the woman was always such a fight. Also, a selfish part of her had wanted her to do this for Monica because she had asked it of her. Reaching the cell door she pulled it closed behind her in a bid to shut out the inmate’s contempt.

But Nikki wasn’t one to let things go. “You're full of shit! Like all the others! You pretend you're not, but you are!” she yelled after her, the sound of her insults reverberating off the walls.

She held her head high, focusing straight ahead, but Nikki’s cruel words sliced through her heart like a hot knife through icing.

* * *

HELEN: HER FLAT

As per usual lately, Sean was prattling on about things that were completely insignificant, when there were good women, like Monica, locked up in prison suffering endless torment.

“Shit,” she said, as it suddenly registered what day he was talking about. “I can't come.”

He looked confused. “What?” 

Unable to look at him, she focused on her nearly empty glass of red wine on the coffee table. “On Saturday, to your parents. I can't make it. I've got to accompany a prisoner to a funeral.” 

“Well, can't someone else go?”

The way he said it, like it was a simple request, really got on her nerves. “I want to go. It's someone that I let down really badly.”

“But you don't mind letting me down?” 

For god’s sake, they could visit his parent’s any old time. A person only died once. What did he expect her to do – ask Monica to change her son’s funeral to another day? “I’m sorry, Sean. Look, just say that I'm useless and badly organized and I've got shit for brains.” 

Because she was full of shit apparently, according to Nikki, she thought bitterly.   

Sighing, he got up from the sofa. “Well, I better go and give them a ring.” As he left the room to phone from the bedroom, (obviously not wanting her to hear since there was a phone right next to her elbow) she knew she was being unreasonable. All he wanted was to spend time with her, and it was his right as her fiancé to expect her to be there when he shared the news of their engagement with his parents, and not have to tell them by himself.

As she reached for her wine, she wondered if there was anyone currently in her life that she wasn’t letting down?

* * *

NIKKI: G2 LANDING

On her way back to Monica’s room she bumped into Helen coming from the other direction.

“How is she?” were the first words out of her mouth. 

“Still not speaking.” She took a deep breath. “Sorry about the other day – the way I spoke to you.” The perfunctory nod she received in reply grated. Didn’t it matter to her that they’d fought? 

Changing the subject, she showed her the bunch of flowers she’d been hiding down at her side, since they violated prison rules. “I'm taking her some flowers.”

Helen blinked, barely glancing at them. “That's nice,” she said, a faraway look in her eyes. 

Her blatant disinterest in their conversation pissed her off even more. It was as if her only reason for approaching her had been to find out about Monica. But Nikki knew one sure way certain to get a rise out of her. “Well, if I'm allowed to,” she challenged.

But it didn’t really work this time. Helen looked more confused than annoyed. “What do you mean?” 

She held the flowers up higher. “Flowers. Usually they're banned from cells, aren't they?”

This time her jibe got a reaction. “Nikki,” she said, drawing out her name even more than usual. Without another word, she stalked past her, continuing on her way. 

If she hadn’t of wanted Monica to have the flowers so badly, Nikki would’ve been tempted to beat herself about the head with them for behaving so stupidly – again! Apologising, and then following it up with a wind up, was hardly the right approach to get back in the governors good graces. But she couldn’t help it. Helen was expert at hiding so much of herself – except when they were fighting. The one time she didn’t appear to hold back and showed actual real emotion.

Further along the landing, Bodybag blocked her path. “Hey!” she demanded to know. “Where do you think you're going with those?”

“I got permission from the governor,” she said, waving the flowers dangerously close to the fat cows face. “So you know what you can do, don't you?” Another words, she thought. Stick it up your arse.

* * *

HELEN: G3 LANDING

Head pounding, with limbs that felt like lead, she dragged herself along the landing. Watching Monica climb into the open grave atop her son’s coffin, sobbing that she wouldn’t leave him had been heart wrenching.

She’d just passed Nikki’s door when she heard her call out softly to Monica. Backtracking, she placed her ear against it, the cool metal welcome relief for her throbbing headache.

“Nikki,” she whispered. “I think she needs some time on her own.”

She heard Nikki inhale sharply on the other side. “What, in here? She'll be lucky.”

Closing her eyes, she said huskily. “I think I do as well.”

“You've got Sean to go home to,” Nikki was quick to remind her.

“Yeah,” she said flatly, hoping that he was still at his parents. If he came home harping on about wedding cakes and dresses she might just throw something at him. 

Knowing that Nikki was right on the other side, she ran her hand along her door, almost a caress, as if it was actually the woman’s skin she was touching. “Good night, Nikki,” she breathed.

A reply came almost instantly. “Night, Helen.”

As she walked away she smiled to realise that Nikki had just called her Helen for the first time. 

 


	7. Chapter 7

HELEN: HER FLAT

Monday morning, two days after Spencer’s funeral, Helen slid open the doors to her back garden. Ambling out onto the porch wearing her robe, she blinked rapidly in the brightness, placing her hand above her eyes to shield them from the sunlight. She was definitely regretting how much she’d had to drink the night before. Well two nights in a row actually, since on Saturday evening, after arriving home from Larkhall, she’d automatically reached for the bottle to dull the pain.

And, to an extent it had worked, well at least in terms of Monica and the funeral anyway. Unfortunately her last conversation with Nikki, through the door of her cell, was proving to be difficult to shake, as it had all been a little too comfortable. She knew she had to try even harder to keep her distance. Needed to stop running to Nikki when things got on top of her. If wasn’t fair of her to keep taunting Nikki with false hope, make her think that a relationship between them was a possibility. She had to keep reminding herself that Nikki wasn’t her friend, she was a prisoner, therefore she had no right to use the woman as a sounding board every time she was at an emotional low. As her fiancé, Sean was the one she should be turning to for support.

It was just that ever since that fateful day in the atrium when Nikki had challenged her over Carol Byatt’s miscarriage, she had seen in her an intellectual equal, whose opinions and views had come to mean a great deal to her. As much as Sean tried his best when she went on about Fenner or Stubberfield, or some other problem at Larkhall, he wasn’t part of the prison world, and couldn’t relate to what she was going through, whereas Nikki understood.

Heading back inside, she shuffled to the kitchen. She’d just dropped a Berocca into a glass of water, and was watching it fizz, when Sean walked into the room carrying the post.

He gave an amused snort when he saw what state she was in, which didn’t impress her one bit. “Takes the body 36 hours.”

“To do what?” she said, moving her glass in a circular motion to dissolve the tablet.

“Get rid of the alcohol from a glass of wine.”

She didn’t tell him that her drink of choice last night had been straight vodka. She’d just hidden the evidence in the bin.

Sipping the orange flavoured liquid, she asked: “How long does it take to get rid of the shit from a day in my job?”

“Well, depends who you've got to help you unwind,” he said, handing her two letters addressed to her. Shuffling through the rest of the mail, a frown crossed his face. “Shit!”

She winced at his loud exclamation so close to her ear. “What?”

“I thought they would have got back by now. The Registry Office?” Smiling, he looked up. “Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm getting married,” he joked, planting a kiss on her cheek. She dimly wondered when they’d last had a conversation that didn’t involve the wedding being brought up at some point. She really couldn’t recall.

Added to that, his close proximity was making her feel queasier than she already did. Why did he feel it necessary to fawn all over her when he knew she wasn’t feeling the best? Couldn’t he see she needed space right now, both physically and emotionally?

“Have you told your dad yet?” he asked.

Grimacing, she shook her head, because she had no plans to inform her father at the present time.

But Sean refused to let it drop. “Well, you can't put it off forever. Not that you're ashamed of me or anything.”

“He's never approved of anything I've done in my life,” she told him. “I can't see this being any different.”

“Well, you watch. He'll be really happy.”

Why wasn’t he listening to what she was saying? Did he think he knew her own dad better than she did? They’d never even met.

“My dad doesn't know the meaning of the word. ‘ _Oh, you're doing that, are you?_ ’” she mimicked. “’ _Well, I suppose congratulations are in order’_.”

"Look,” he said. “Isn't it time you put all that behind you?”

“Nice idea,” she said, placing her empty glass on the counter. “Doesn't actually work like that though, does it?” Brushing by him, she left the room to shower and dress.

* * *

 

NIKKI: LIBRARY

She was standing by the _classics_ shelf, flicking through a book, when Helen walked in.

From the way the governor’s posture stiffened upon noticing her, she gathered she was not pleased to find her there. “Hi,” she said, in a rushed way, before turning her back on her, eyes flitting around the room.

Nikki studied her profile, taking in her pale complexion and red-rimmed eyes. Looks like someone had put away a few too many the night before.

Moving closer, she spoke low. “You look a bit pasty, Helen. Heavy night?” She felt like adding: ‘ _Have a lot on your mind – namely me?’_ , but she resisted.

Back still to her, Helen continued to scan the room. “I'm looking for Monica,” she said distractedly.

“I've not seen her all day. What's wrong?” she demanded to know. “Is it cos I called you Helen? I thought you didn't want us to be formal?”

Annoyance crossed Helen’s face. “No, I don't.” The way she sighed dramatically clearly indicated that she didn’t want to get into this with her now – probably ever actually.

But Nikki was determined to get an honest answer out of her for once so she continued to push. “So what's the problem? You want to be informal, but you don't want to be called Helen?”

“No,” she said, releasing the word on a long drawn out exhale.

“You can't have it both ways,” she said. Pivoting around she returned to the bookshelf.

She felt Helen’s eyes boring into her back. “This is difficult for me, as I think you know,” she said, speaking through her teeth with forced restraint.

Nikki didn’t doubt it. Denying her feelings to the extent that Helen was must be the equivalent of a full time job.

Spinning back to face her, she leaned in as close to her as she could possibly get without physically touching her. “So what do you want?” she challenged.

Just as she expected, her close proximity saw the governor stumbling backwards, but Nikki could’ve sworn her gaze had landed briefly on her lips, before dropping.

“Sorry,” Nikki mock apologised. “Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” It gave her some satisfaction to repeat the words Helen had thrown at her that day in her office, when she’d told her in no uncertain terms that there was no way they could have a relationship.

Eyes fixed to the floor, Helen mumbled: “Look, if you see Monica tell her that I'm looking for her.”

Then she did what she always did when things got a little too _real_ for her – she left the room.

* * *

 

HELEN: GARDEN

A few days after their confrontation in the library, Helen found herself tracking Nikki down in the garden because she was out of options.

“Nikki, can I have a word?” she asked, finding her hunched over a flowerbed in the far corner. Just beyond her, Helen’s eyes drifted to the potting shed, which brought up all sorts of pleasant connotations, causing her to look away quickly. Starting down the path, she beckoned for Nikki to follow.

Falling into step beside her, the lifer shot her an amused look. “You again?” Her meaning was obvious: ‘ _Can’t stay away, can you?’_

“Look, I need to ask a favour. It's about Monica. I know that I shouldn't be telling you this but I've run out of ideas.” _What was one more shared secret between them,_ she thought. “She's refusing to go through with her appeal.”

“What?” Nikki gasped.

“She said she doesn't care anymore now that Spencer's dead.” The way they were walking so closely so that their sides kept brushing against one another seemed intimate somehow. She reminded herself they had to walk this close, didn’t want to risk being overheard.

“Have you talked to her?”

Helen sighed. “Me, the solicitor, a couple of officers. She just doesn't want to know.”

“And you want me to have a go?”

Stopping, Helen placed a hand on her elbow to halt their progress. “Could you? I know that she respects you.”

Nikki nodded. “I'll try.”

“Thanks,” she said, giving her arm a pat before releasing it. “And I haven't said anything, okay?”

The amused look returned. “Sure, Helen. That's okay.”

With that they went their separate ways.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

All she wanted was to unwind, watch some telly, and drink her wine in peace, but Sean suddenly seemed determined to grill her about her feelings.

She had just given him a non-committal “Hmm?”, which she hoped was a clear message for him to drop it, when she was literally saved by the bell, when the phone rang.

Sliding his arm free from behind her shoulders, he jumped up to grab it. “I’ll get it.”

“Hello? She heard him say, then a moment later. “Hang on.”

“It's for you,” he said. “Some woman.”

As she took the phone from him she couldn’t imagine who could possibly be calling her if it wasn’t work related. Lack of time meant that she’d lost touch with most of her friends since accepting the position of wing governor at Larkhall. “Hello?” she said, waiting. A moment later she heard the distinctive click of the line disconnecting.

She frowned. In the few seconds before the call had ended she had heard what sounded like prison noise in the background, leading her to believe that someone not on staff was phoning her from Larkhall. And there was only one person that could possibly be – Nikki! The thought of the inmate calling her at home appalled her as much as it thrilled her. She wondered what she had wanted? It couldn’t have been anything life threatening, otherwise someone from the prison would’ve contacted her.

She placed the phone on the arm rest right next to her just in case Nikki dialled her back. “Hung up,” she told Sean.

“Dial 1471,” he suggested.

She shrugged. “Can't be bothered.” And there was no point anyway since she was ninety-nine percent certain of the caller’s identity. “If it's important, they'll ring back.”

For the next half hour (after that it was past lockup) she kept glancing at the phone willing it to ring, but it didn’t.

* * *

 

NIKKI: G3 LANDING

After going to the trouble of tracking down Helen’s number, and phoning her, she’d chickened out once the woman came on the line, worried that she might come across like some kind of stalker. And maybe she was, because the governor was pretty much all she thought about these days. Although it wasn’t like there was a lot to do in here. Another downside to prison was that it gave you too much time to think and dwell.

Sean answering the phone had thrown her, reminding her yet again that Helen wasn’t single. She’d like to think that she had phoned Helen the previous evening because she’d been eager to share the news that Monica had changed her mind about appealing, but truth be told she’d just been using the woman as an excuse to speak to the governor. The thought made her feel guilty, as if she was being disloyal to her friend by using her in such a way, but she was thrilled to pieces that Monica was going ahead with her appeal, so she told herself she had nothing to feel guilty over.

This morning she had staked out the entrance, taking her time wheel barrowing new plants from the loading dock to the garden, hoping to catch Helen on her way in, to share Monica’s good news. Unfortunately the governor had been in too much of a rush to stop. For a panicky second Nikki had thought she’d put two-and-two together and realising it was her who had phoned was now angry with her. But she’d just as quickly changed her mind, as she’d looked more harassed than angry, and she had apologised for not being able to speak to her.

Walking onto the wing half an hour later, she had noticed a small group of prisoners, including the two Julies and Zandra Plackett, pouring over a newspaper talking in excited whispers. There had been another copy lying on a nearby table, so she’d grabbed it and sat down on the stairs to see what all the fuss was about. It had shocked her to the core to discover the article Crystal Gordon had written, citing Helen to blame for the presence of drugs on G-wing. What utter rubbish! Crystal might’ve thought differently if she’d been here when Helen had been on her anti-drugs poster campaign frenzy. Poor Helen – this was the last thing she needed. Gordon better pray Nikki didn’t run into her today, because she might do her serious harm.

Dockley chose that moment to sidle up to her, flicking the paper to get her attention. “In deep shit, your Miss Stewart.”

“Piss off, Dockley,” she’d said, escaping to her cell.

Early afternoon she was halfway up the stairs to G3 when from behind her Helen called out her name. “Nikki.”

Halting, hand on the railing, she waited for the petite woman to catch up. “Is it okay to talk now?” she asked, as they resumed their climb.

“No worse than any other time,” the governor said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

The audible stress in her voice was evident. “I'm sorry about the letter,” Nikki said.

Helen’s posture visibly slumped. “Doing the rounds, is it? Well, only to be expected.”

Hating to see her looking so forlorn, Nikki decided to change the topic. “I phoned you last night,” she admitted, holding her breath as she waited to see how Helen reacted.

“I thought it might be you.” To Nikki’s surprise she didn’t sound particularly annoyed. “How did you get my number?”

“Directory enquiries.” At that the governor did look a little put out, so she hastily apologised. “Out of order, I know. I'm sorry.” Having arrived at her cell, they stood facing each other. “I just wanted to tell you the good news.”

“What good news?” Helen asked. By her tone it was clear that she couldn’t possibly imagine what good news there could be on a day like this.

“I think I've got Monica to reconsider.”

Watching Helen’s face break into a smile, albeit a small one was all the reward she needed. “Thank God something's gone right today,” she said, raising her eyes skywards. “Well done.”

Warmed by her praise, Nikki said: “I thought it'd cheer you up.”

As soon as the words left her mouth she wished she had of phrased them differently, because Helen immediately sobered. “Don't worry about the letter,” Nikki said, giving her a look that she hoped conveyed, _‘It’ll blow over in no time, you’ll see’_.

Helen didn’t look convinced. “No?” she mumbled, staring off into space.

Trying to think of something comforting to say, when all she wanted to do was reach out and hold her, she settled for: “You've got lots of other things to look forward to.”

It was odd the way Helen just stared at her like she had no earthly idea what the _other things_ might be. “Like a wedding to plan,” she prompted.

Unlike her reaction to the news about Monica this didn’t even raise a smile. Instead she just muttered: “That's right.” Still looking distracted she added: “Anyway, well done about Monica. I'll see you, Nikki.”

“See you, Helen.” Watching her walk away Nikki dearly wished there was something more she could do to help.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

“Well, there's one bit of good news,” Sean said. Cuddled up against him on the sofa Helen didn’t think there was anything that could cheer her up right now. Following the discovery that one of her trusted officers, Lorna Rose, had been supplying drugs to Michelle Dockley, the Number One had ordered closed visits for all women. _Closed visits?_ Every prisoner on G-wing was going to think it had been her doing, and they’d hate her for it.

She didn’t even blink at his next words, because the _good news_ was that underwhelming. “We got the date we wanted at the Registry Office,” he said. “Old Shufflebottom can't override you on that.”

“Stubberfield,” she sighed. She didn’t correct him because she cared that he had called Simon Stubberfield, _Shufflebotton_ – the name suited the old windbag, but it grated that despite her mentioning her boss by name on numerous occasions Sean couldn’t even recall his name. The only thing he seemed to care about lately was the bloody wedding.

“I don't know if I can take another day in that place,” she said quietly, almost in tears.

His next words didn’t reassure her in the slightest. “Well, you can't give up now,” he said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. It was as if he thought she was being over dramatic.

“No?” she sniffed.

“What, let Jim Fenner get your job? You hang in there. Hmm?” 

Normally the thought of Fenner in her position would’ve bothered her, but she was too caught up in her own misery to care.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G3)

Just after lockup, Nikki looked up from her novel, startled to hear a key turning in the lock. The heavy door opened to reveal a distraught looking Helen peering in at her.

The way she was just standing there making no move to enter her cell led Nikki to believe that she was waiting for some signal from her that she didn’t hold her responsible for the entire wing being on closed visits. Lowering her book, she spoke quickly. “Don't let the buggers get you down.”

Removing her key from the outside lock, Helen shut the door, crossing the dimly lit room towards her. Sinking down onto the thin mattress right next to her, her eyes fell to the book in Nikki’s hands. “What you reading?”

She showed her the cover, “Little Dorrit.” For Helen’s benefit, intending to show her that today’s prisons were a piece of piss compared to nineteenth century ones, she said: “It's a story about a terrible prison.”

Unfortunately her quip fell somewhat flat. “Thank goodness we got rid of all of those,” she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. As if she really believed that enforced closed visits in Larkhall made the place as bad as the notorious Marshalsea Prison.

Nikki clicked her tongue. “You're doing your bit, Helen,” she told her. “Most of the girls in here know that, deep down.”

She’d already brought this up with some of the women this morning, pointing out that closed visits would’ve been the governing governor’s decision and not the wing governors. Then she’d gone on to state that if anyone was to blame it was Dockley for dropping Lorna Rose in it. And by the cold stares Shell had received following her speech, Nikki knew that she had managed to convince at least some of them.

“Yeah, but for how much longer?” Helen said, looking like she was about to cry.

“Hey, come here,” she said, putting an arm around her trembling shoulders.

The way Helen stiffened, for a beat Nikki thought she was going to pull away, but she didn’t. Gaze focused on her lap, tears filled her hazel eyes. “I'm just getting it from all sides, Nikki. You know? From above and below. It just would be so much easier just to give in.” Crying now, she choked out the last sentence, as it all became too much.

“Hey,” Nikki said. “You mustn't think like that.” Cupping Helen’s chin she gently forced her to look at her. Touching her was as addictive as a drug so unable to keep her hand still Nikki brushed a tear from her heated cheek, then stroked her hair back from her face.

“No?” Helen whispered, her voice shaking. They were so close now that Nikki could feel her warm breath against her lips, which caused shivers to race down her spine. Part of her knew she shouldn’t take advantage of Helen’s vulnerable state, but having fantasised for so long about kissing the woman currently mere inches from her face, months of pent up frustration surged to the surface. Closing the gap between them she pressed her mouth to hers. Not wanting to spook her she deliberately kept her touch light until she felt the other woman relax against her. On the second kiss a whimper escaped Helen’s slightly parted lips, and by the third she was an active participant, her little squeaky moans music to Nikki’s ears. Deepening the kiss, her hands roamed Helen’s back, shoulders, arms – anywhere she could reach.

As if from a long distance she dimly heard Helen say: “No.” And next thing she snatched her mouth away, flying across the room faster than a runaway train, a look of utter shock on her tear-stained face.

Immediately regretting what she’d done (not the kiss, never the kiss) but her inappropriate timing, she threw herself back on the bed, punching the pillow with her hand. “Sorry!” she said her other hand flying to her mouth. “I...I shouldn't have done that.”

The governor’s shock quickly morphed into anger. “No, you shouldn't.” Then she was out the door, slamming it closed so hard that Nikki was surprised it didn’t send every screw in the building running to see what all the commotion was about.

She pressed her fingers to her tingling lips in awe. She’d just _kissed_ Helen! And it had been bloody sensational.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

Tonight Nikki had _kissed_ her! And as much as she didn’t want to admit it she’d wanted her to. Had deliberately gone to her cell just to see what would happen. Worse still, she’d liked it, _really_ liked it – had started to kiss her back, until she’d realised what she was doing, and put a stop to it. Yep, she’d fucked up royally, not only did she have to come to terms with the fact that she had enjoyed kissing a woman, but she was also an engaged woman cheating on her fiancé, and on top of all of that she was a wing governor taking advantage of a prisoner in her charge.

Pulling up to her flat, _their_ flat she reminded herself, she immediately noticed the absence of Sean’s car. Her spirits plummeted as she dimly recalled Sean saying something about working late. This morning felt like a hundred years ago. She really didn’t relish the idea of being alone right now and could have really done with the company. Alone gave her too much time to focus on the kiss and she really didn’t want to do that. It terrified her to think where such thoughts might lead. She briefly debated calling Sean and asking him to come home, but that wasn’t how their relationship worked. They didn’t live in each other’s pockets, and that’s how they both liked it, and besides all that she wasn’t a needy person.

She couldn’t be arsed changing clothes, but she did kick off her heels, and remove her jacket, before busying herself making dinner. But when she sat down to eat it, found she wasn’t hungry, her stomach in knots. The glass of wine on the other hand she drained in several gulps.

Washing up done, she poured herself more wine, before shuffling into the living room and switching on the telly as a distraction. But as much as she tried to make herself focus on various shows, none of the storylines held her attention, and when two characters started kissing enthusiastically, she gave up, switching it off, throwing the remote down on the sofa in disgust. It appeared even TV was against her. She reached for her glass – at least she had wine.

Her book was on the coffee table, but after ten minutes of reading the same paragraph, absorbing none of the words, she closed it with a bang. Reading really wasn’t a good idea anyway, reminded her too much of a certain Larkhall resident. Images of _Little Dorrit –_ sitting so close to Nikki on her narrow bed that she brushed against her, Nikki stroking her hair, the intense look on Nikki’s face as she’d leaned in to kiss her – raced through her mind. She licked her lips experimentally; both dismayed and excited to find the lingering taste of Nikki still there, as if taunting her. Her action invoked a jolt of pure pleasure which quickly spread throughout her entire body.

It was several glasses of wine later before she heard Sean’s key in the door, and by this point she was feeling decidedly mellower.

He took in her dishevelled appearance, as well as the now empty wine bottle on the coffee table. “Let me guess... more problems at Larkhall?” It was spoken lightly but she could still detect a trace of irritation in his voice.

Before she knew it she was on her feet, almost tripping in her haste to reach him, although it might have had more to do with the fact that she was pretty wasted and also because nylon-encased feet combined with hardwood floors weren’t a good combination.

Throwing herself at him, she kissed him with everything she had, desperate to prove to herself that Sean’s touch meant more to her than anyone’s, that it could instil the same level of passion and longing in her she’d felt when Nikki had kissed her. But it wasn’t working, she wasn’t feeling it, so she pulled him tighter again her, kissed him harder determined to feel something... anything.

Breaking the kiss Sean studied her closely, his face etched in concern. “Is everything all right, Hel? You seem... different?”

“Course,” she said, in a forced, high-pitched way. Speaking close to his ear, she repeated the words he’d once used on her, “Fancy a shag.”

Grinning, he reached for her hand, dragging her in the direction of the bedroom.

She licked her lips again, could no longer taste Nikki. But instead of feeling relief she mourned the loss.

* * *

She was freezing, but no matter how tightly she pulled the covers around herself she couldn’t get warm. Shagging Sean had been a bad idea because lying here all she could think about was Nikki.

Why did it feel as if she was betraying Nikki more by sleeping with Sean, than she was betraying Sean by kissing Nikki? Sean was her fiancé for god’s sake. He was the one she owed her loyalty. Nikki was... well what was she?

Her thoughts were so jumbled she couldn’t even think straight anymore. The word straight was not lost on her. And she was straight wasn’t she? She had only ever had sex with men so she must be? She’d meant what she’d said to Nikki that day in the library, she’d never thought about a woman in that way... but somewhere along the way the lines had gotten blurred and now she was lying here unable to deny that she had feelings for a woman. And not just any woman, someone forbidden to her – a prisoner.

She wondered whether Nikki was awake? Could picture her lying in bed, huddled under her thin duvet. She was suddenly overcome by an overwhelming need to see her that was so strong that she momentarily considered jumping in her car, driving to Larkhall, hurrying on to G-wing, sneaking into Nikki’s cell, and curling up in bed with her. Maybe then she’d feel warm?

Eyes widening, she sat up straight in bed, a hand flying to her mouth. What the hell was she thinking? There was no way she should be having these kinds of thoughts about Nikki. It was so wrong on so many levels, not just morally, but legally as well. She was a wing governor contemplating starting a sexual with a prisoner. What the fuck was wrong with her? It had been a huge error in judgment on her part, not only going to Nikki’s cell after lockup tonight, but getting herself into a situation where Nikki had kissed her.

She had to quit? She had no other option?

No... no! All she needed to do was regain control of the situation. Starting tomorrow she’d avoid Nikki at all costs until these feelings passed. She could do that? What was the old saying, out of sight, out of mind?

Feeling relieved that she’d come up with a solution, she lay back down, and closed her eyes. It was a long time before she fell asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

NIKKI: SERVERY

It had been nearly two weeks since she’d spoken to Helen, and given how much time had passed she got the distinct impression the governor was avoiding her. On the few occasions she’d spied her on the wing, Nikki had unsuccessfully tried to catch her eye. When that didn’t work she’d attempted to approach her but as soon as she’d gotten anywhere within the vicinity of her, Helen had walked away. Obviously the woman was having trouble facing up to the fact that she’d kissed her back and was choosing to deal with it by ignoring that it’d happened. Well if that’s the way she wanted to play it then Nikki was determined to have nothing to do with her either. Stuff her!

“Nikki's gonna take it up to her,” Julie S’s chirpy voice broke into Nikki’s thoughts. Pulling out the chair next to her Crystal had just vacated, she sank down into it, regarding her anxiously. “You think she's really on our side, don't ya, Nik?”

That was the other thing she was annoyed about. She’d spend the past fortnight trying to calm things down, as well as convince her fellow inmates that Helen wasn’t on board with closed visits. When some of the more aggressive cons had wanted to start a riot, she’d not only managed to talk them down, but also come up with the petition idea, for Helen to approach the governing governor with. Right about now she was wondering why she’d bothered. She’d saved Miss Stewart’s bacon and what had she gotten for it – sweet fuck all!

“I wouldn't count on it,” she mumbled.

“Aye?” A look of confusion crossed Julie’s face.

Nikki shrugged. “I don't think Helen Stewart's on anyone's side except her own.”

Julie’s eyes bugged. “I thought you really liked her.”

“Yeah?” she said. “Well, think again.”

“But what about the petition?” Julie complained. “I mean, me and Ju was counting on you to get her to take it to the top.”

“Well, coming from me, all she'd do with it is rip it up.” Scraping her chair back, she stood and walked away.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HELEN’S OFFICE

Miracle of miracles, Helen had finally consented to see her. As she walked in front of the male screw accompanying her to the wing governor’s office, she wondered what she wanted? Was she actually finally going to be honest for a change and admit there was something between them? Yeah that was about as likely as Bodybag bringing her a box of chocolates for her next birthday.

Helen was stationed in her doorway waiting. If only it meant she was eager to see her, but somehow Nikki doubted it.

After thanking the screw for delivering her, Helen strode over to her desk and sat down. From there she instructed her to: “Take a seat,” in a very formal, unsmiling tone.

If she wanted _formal_ then two could play at that game, Nikki thought, taking the chair she’d indicated.

Her arse had barely grazed the seat when Helen got straight to the point, as it she didn’t want to waste a second longer than necessary dealing with her. “It's about your exam. Now, I'll arrange for an invigilator to come in.”

“Thought you'd given up taking an interest in me, _miss_?” she said, reverting to calling her ‘miss’, rather than ‘Helen’.   _How’s that for formal!_ she thought smugly.

“Oh, look,” Helen said sharply.

“Why have you been avoiding me, then?” she demanded to know. _Okay, so formal wasn’t her style._

This earned her a firm look, bordering on a glare. “You know what I'm avoiding.”

Given that admission was the closest to honesty she’d gotten out of her since entering the room, she seized the words with both hands. “Why don't you tell me?” she said, eyes probing hers.

But just like that the bloody woman shut down again. “Oh, for goodness sake, Nikki,” she said in annoyance. “All I've been trying to do is to help you to do yourself some good. Because I don't want you to waste your potential.” This time she did glare at her. “You had no right taking advantage of me.”

 _You’re the one who came to me after lockup,_ she wanted to yell. _Sat so close you were practically in my lap. But what was the point? Helen would undoubtedly find a way to pin the blame for her own seductive behaviour on her as well._

Nikki clicked her tongue. “Well, put me down the block, then,” she said, leaping to her feet. “Go on. Rule 47, Subsection 16 – being disrespectful to the wing governor...” By this point she’d moved so she was standing over Helen. Placing her hands on her desk she leaned in close, almost whispering in her ear. “by kissing her. Or do you expect me to apologise?” Snatching up the letter from the Open University, she made for the door.

Helen remained seated, unmoving, making Nikki think she was home free. Just as she had her hand poised on the door knob, the governor called out to her. “Nikki, stop!”

Breath in her throat, Nikki watched her progress. It seemed to take an eternity for her to reach her, and when she finally stood before her, her face was as hard as stone. “Honestly, I'm telling you, if you carry on like this one of us is going to have to leave Larkhall. I mean it,” she said, in her _‘Do what I say, or else’_ voice.

Nikki stared at her, knew that if it came down to a choice for the governor she’d be the one leaving since Helen clearly wasn’t willing to risk her precious job for anyone or anything – especially her.

* * *

 

NIKKI: MONICA’S CELL (G3)

Monica had just tried to overdose on pills, but thank god Nikki had stopped by her cell to visit her and realised something was amiss. Desperate to keep it secret from the screws, with the help of the two Julies they’d kept her awake by marching her around the room, as well as forcing cold coffee down her throat to induce vomiting. Just when it had seemed hopeless, and Nikki was about to leave to alert someone, their efforts had paid off, and the Julies had rushed Monica to the loo where she’d promptly thrown up. Julie S. had just left to fetch more coffee – hot this time, to keep Monica awake long enough to make sure all the drugs were out of her system.

The door swung open, as Julie returned carrying a mug. “Miss Stewart's outside,” she whispered urgently. “She's just locking up.”

Christ! That’s all they needed. What was Helen doing up here tonight of all nights? Had she come to listen to the hideous racket that was the Larkhall Tabernacle Gospel Choir currently belting out an almost unrecognisable version of _Kumbayah_? She’d take one look at Monica in this state and know something was up. Nikki needed to get this coffee down her fast, counting on it to by some miracle, perk her up in record time.

Taking the mug from Julie, she thrust it at her friend. ”Quick, Monica, get this down you.” When the older woman shook her head in protest, she pleaded: “Please.”

A knock sounded on the door, followed by Helen calling out, “Hello?”

Shit, she was here already! Nikki glanced at Monica who still looked ghastly, while the two Julies swung around.

“Hello, Miss Stewart,” the Julies greeted in unison, speaking far too brightly, as if the governor was their new best friend. Closing her eyes, Nikki fought the urge to groan out loud at their obviousness.

Helen took in the four of them lined up on the bed with interest. “What’s going on in here?” she smiled.

Saying nothing, the Julies just stared at her looking nervous.

Clearing her throat, Nikki took the lead. “Monica – she's been a bit unwell,” she said, hoping that her words came across as nonchalant.

Julie S. nodded. “Yeah. I think it's just a bit of pre-trial nerves.”

“Yeah. Pre-trial nerves,” Julie J. parroted.

Eyes sliding to Monica, Helen already looked suspicious, so Nikki tried to make light of the situation to throw her off. “I think she'll be fine now. Won't you, Monica?”

But the governor wasn’t convinced. “Monica, you look terrible,” she said.

“She looks a lot better than she did,” Julie S. reassured her.

“Oh, she does,” Julie J. piped up. “Now that she's been sick.”

Frowning, Helen glanced into the toilet bowl. “Sick!” she said sharply.

Right about now Nikki was praying for the bed to open and swallow her up. The Julies had well and truly given the game away, and on top of everything she’d just been through with Monica she didn’t have the strength to deal with the wrath of Helen as well.

But it seemed she had no choice. Because boy did Helen look furious.

* * *

 

HELEN: NIKKI’S CELL (G3)

Fed up with everyone in her life at the moment, she marched towards Nikki’s cell. First Sean had taken it upon himself to invite almost complete strangers to stay in her flat while they went on their honeymoon. Honeymoon – the mere thought of it made her want to run a mile in the other direction. Then he’d rung her at work to pick a fight, refusing to get off the line until she spoke to him, forcing her to cut Yvonne Atkins induction meeting short, and now bloody Nikki had gone and done this. Once again, everything in her life was fast spiralling out of control.

Unlocking Nikki’s door, she checked to make sure none of her officers were in sight. Coast clear, she shut herself in.

Nikki was standing over by the window, smoking a cigarette, back to her, pretending not to have noticed her entrance.

She stepped up behind her. “Did Monica take an overdose?” she demanded.

“What?” the inmate answered, in that frustratingly vague tone she often adopted when confronted.

Her voice rose. “I want a straight answer, Nikki.”

The woman snorted. “Straight?”

Helen couldn’t believe she was making such ridiculous, unnecessary comments at a time like this. Didn’t she understand the seriousness of her actions? She was so over her _them_ and _us_ mentality. It was one thing not to trust the officers, but to go as far as to deliberately not get help for a fellow inmate who’d overdosed was unacceptable. Was this the same woman who’d kicked up such a fuss when another friend had miscarried in her cell because she’d been refused a doctor? Didn’t she realise what she’d done to Monica made her no better than Sylvia Hollamby?

“She could've died,” she said, tightly. “And you took that risk with her? I don't understand you. How could you have been so irresponsible?”

Nikki’s eyes flicked upwards. “Oh, Jesus.”

“What the hell were you thinking of?”

Spinning to face her, a desperate look on her face, she uttered one word. “You.”

Her eyes widened. “What?” What the hell was Nikki talking about? The only thing that sprang to mind was that she’d done it to punish her for refusing to have a relationship with her, but that couldn’t be right, could it? Heart in her throat, she waited for Nikki to elaborate.

“I did it to protect you,” she said softly, eyes pleading with her to understand.

And just like that the penny dropped, as she realised why she’d done what she did.

More importantly, it hit her like a bomb that Nikki wasn’t just lusting after her, she was in love with her.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

As she stepped through her front door she was still trying to get her head around the revelation that Nikki had done something so selfless for her. What made it even more incredible was that her job was the main obstacle standing in the way of them starting a relationship, but Nikki had still done it anyway, solely for her, because she knew how much her career meant to her. Had seen the flak she’d received over Rachel Hicks’ suicide and hadn’t wanted her to go through all that again. It was a far cry from Sean deliberately phoning her during work hours, demanding to speak to her right then and there, with no regard for how busy she was. He was fully aware of her constant struggles with management, staff, and inmates alike, but he’d done it anyway, with no regard for her professional reputation.

She’d been so preoccupied driving up that she hadn’t noticed whether Sean’s car was parked on the road. Pausing just inside the door she called out: “Hi.”

“Keep your coat on. We're going out,” came his muffled reply.

“Are we?” she said, struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice. Dropping her briefcase on the floor next to the coat rack, she started down the hall. What gave him the right to keep constantly making plans for the both of them, and just assuming she’d go along with whatever he decided? What if she had something else on?

“Jamie and Luce called to see if we're on for a cheap and cheerful,” he called, as she placed her handbag on the hall table. “Is that okay?”

On seconds thoughts, maybe it was better that they went out as she didn’t really relish getting into another argument with him. “Fine.”

As she reached the end of the hall, he came out of the bedroom to meet her.

In the process of doing up his shirt buttons, he said: “You should talk to Luce about your hen night.”

She shook her head. “I don't want a hen night.”

“I'm having a stag night,” he smiled. This didn’t surprise her. Of course he was. What did surprise her was that he hadn’t gone behind her back and arranged a hen night for her. She wouldn’t have put it past him to do something like that. “And...” he drawled. “I'm buying a suit.”

“A suit?” she blinked.

“Yeah. I thought... seeing as you're going to court tomorrow we could meet up and you could help me choose it. Yeah?”

She nodded. “All right.”

Heading back into the bedroom he called out: “So, did you beat anyone up today?”

Sweeping her hair back behind her right ear, she bit her lip. “Just the one.”

“Who, Fenner?”

Not quite sure what to do with herself she paced restlessly. “No. Nikki Wade.”

“What?” he said teasingly. “Your golden girl?”

Walking over to the hall table, she played with the zip of her handbag. “I think she thinks she's in love with me,”  she found herself blurting out, shocked to the core that she’d spoken the words aloud. She didn’t have to wait long for his reaction.

He practically flew out of the bedroom. “What?” he exclaimed putting a hand on her arm.

Amused, she said: “Don't sound so surprised.”

“What happened?” Funnily enough he didn’t seem to share her amusement.

Keeping her back to him, she rummaged through her handbag for her car keys. “She tried to drag me into her cell and kiss me,” she told him. That wasn’t how it happened of course, but it’s not like she could tell him the whole story. That, a) she’d gone to Nikki’s cell willingly that night, b) even though she hadn’t instigated the kiss she’d responded, and enjoyed it, and c) she wasn’t sure yet if it was love, but she definitely had strong feelings for Nikki.

But she desperately needed to confide in someone, because major life changing things were happening to her, and she was at a loss over how to deal with any of them, let alone what to do next. And Sean was her fiancé, the closest person to her – well at least he used to be.

“What?” Sean gasped. “You mean she actually grabbed hold of you?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, locating her keys.

 _And I wanted her to_ , she wanted to shout.

“Well, that's assault.” Even though she hadn’t really looked at him once since she’d brought up Nikki’s name the frustration in his voice was obvious. He had to be wondering why she was being so blasé about it, as if an inmate dragging her into their cell and trying to kiss her was an everyday occurrence.

“Did anybody else see?” he asked next.

“No,” she said quickly. Shit, maybe she’d taken the whole charade a bit far, suddenly conscience that she was putting Nikki at risk by talking like this. Her heart leapt in her throat as she imagined Sean phoning the prison to report what she’d just falsely claimed? It’s just that once she’d started speaking she found she couldn’t stop.

He kept pushing her. “What are you gonna do about it?”

She shrugged as if to say, _‘Isn’t the answer obvious’_. “Avoid being alone with her,” she said.

 _Who are you trying to fool?_ she reprimanded herself. _You’ve been trying to stay away since the potting shed and you’re that weak you can’t._

“Can't you get her transferred to another prison?”

“She won't try it again,” she reassured him. Keys in hand, she slung her handbag over her shoulder. “Come on, then, if we're going.”

She walked confidently to the door, when inwardly she was shaking so badly, wishing she could erase everything she’d just told him, because all she’d done was make things worse. It was several beats before he followed.

Her plan was to enthusiastically talk wedding plans with Lucy, over dinner, so that Sean would forget she’d ever mentioned the name Nikki Wade.

* * *

 

NIKKI: SERVERY

After making Monica cry with shame for trying to take her own life when she was so close to getting out, when there were women in here (herself included) who would give their right arm to be in her shoes, she followed it up with: “Shut up. You’ll spoil your face.”

Hearing the familiar sound of high heels approaching, she kept her eyes focused on Monica. Following their conversation last night, Helen had backed away looking stunned, and left without another word. For once she hadn’t slammed her cell door though which made a nice change.

She didn’t have to look up to know the governor was standing right next to her. “Monica, are you ready?” Helen asked gently.

Nodding, a tearful Monica picked up the card Nikki had just handed her, (signed by most of the women on G-wing) reaching for the plastic bag containing her belongings with the other.

Makeup be damned, Nikki felt her own eyes welling with tears. She was really going to miss Monica. “Stay safe,” she whispered, watching as she stepped over to the next table to receive hugs from the two Julies.

Still hovering near her elbow, Helen said quietly. “Nikki. Look, don't think I condone what you did last night but I am grateful.”

Blinking back the tears that threatened to fall, afraid of bursting out crying with everyone’s eyes on her, especially Helen’s, she stood up violently from the table, shoving her chair back. Last night she’d come as close as possible to declaring her love for her without actually saying the words, and that was the best she could come up with? An obvious brush off if ever she heard one. “Oh, don't bother,” she said, turning the tables on her for once and storming away.

She hoped Helen and Sean would be very happy together.

* * *

 

NIKKI: G1 (BASIC)

Helen looked damn good on telly – very photogenic, standing outside the court after Monica had won her appeal.

Monica did them all proud, making a heartfelt speech to the press regarding how difficult women had it in prison. Standing just beyond her, Helen looked like she approved wholeheartedly. To Nikki, it felt weird seeing her in a setting outside of Larkhall, even if only via a TV screen.

Following her speech, Monica stepped over to Helen, and the two women embraced. Nikki hoped Helen’s boss, what’s-his-face, wasn’t watching. Felt for sure he would disapprove of one of his wing governors hugging a newly-freed prisoner on live television. Not that she cared what that old dinosaur thought, it’s just that everything Helen-related intrigued her. She started to fantasise that it was her up there, instead of Monica, that she’d won her appeal, and Helen was hugging her instead. But the images quickly dissolved, like candyfloss on your tongue, as release for her had an almost dream-like quality, so much so that she struggled to picture it. Besides, she couldn’t even get the woman to admit her feelings, let along be committed enough to spend the next ten years waiting for her.

It was time to face up to the harsh reality. For whatever reason, no matter how much Nikki didn’t want to accept it, Helen was choosing to remain with Sean.

She needed to let her go.

* * *

 

HELEN: TAILORS

As happy as she was for Monica, by the time she was walking down the street to meet Sean, her good mood had well and truly evaporated. Knowing what she had to do, how much she was about to hurt someone she cared about, all she felt now was a deep sadness. Had she ever loved Sean? She’d thought she had, but Nikki had awakened something within her that she’d never experienced before, a primal need which made her think she’d just been settling with Sean. Life with him had been – easy, calm, uncomplicated – three words she definitely wouldn’t associate with Nikki.

Rushing into the shop her heart sank to find him dressed in a suit. She’d been hoping to catch him before he’d changed.

He crossed the shop to meet her. “There she is,” he grinned. “Just in time for the verdict.”

“Sorry,” she apologised, allowing him to kiss her on the cheek.

He held out his arms, proudly showing off the suit. “What do you think?”

“Sean – “ she started to say.

Even though she’d only spoken his name, she could tell by the way his face fell that he sensed something was amiss – that things between them were about to irrevocably change. “You've never seen me in a suit before, have you?” he said. Maybe he thought if he chattered on for long enough – prevented her from talking – she’d change her mind? “You don't think I need a tie, do you?”

Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “Look, can we leave this and go and get a drink?”

“Well, I'll just buy the suit if you like it,” he insisted.

“No,” She adopted a more serious tone. “I need to talk to you. Can we just go?”

“What is the matter?”

She took a step closer. “Will you change?”

“No,” he said sharply, causing the tailor to look their way curiously. “I like this suit. Why don't you like it?”

“Please, Sean,” she pleaded.

“Tell me what is the matter?” he said, starting to get angry. Breath coming in gasps, all she could do was stare at him, so his voice got louder. “Come on. I said tell me, Helen.”

She finally managed to get it out. “I can't marry you. I'm really sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

Half turning away from him, she looked towards the door. All she wanted to do was leave. “Look, can we get out of here?”

Grabbing her shoulders he turned her back to face him. “What do you mean, you can't marry me?” He shook her. “Why not?”

Unable to look at him when she said the words, voice breaking, she kept her eyes firmly on the floor. “Because I don't love you.” She looked up at him. “I'm sorry.”

Unable to bear the anguish in his eyes, and not wanting to break down in front of him, she turned and ran out of the shop.

Out on the street, she walked along the footpath, hand to her mouth to hold in her sobs.

He didn’t follow her. For that she was grateful.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

Were the women having a sing-a-long? Was the Larkhall Tabernacle Gospel Choir back in session? From the amount of noise, it sounded like they were dancing and clapping as well, but she was feeling too despondent to bother checking it out. Besides, she really didn’t want to risk running into Nikki right now. So she hid out in her office feeling sorry for herself.

She couldn’t believe she’d been forced to break the news to Sean right in the middle of the shop, in the presence of the tailor as well as two customers. Had wanted to take him somewhere quiet, break the news gently. Although would it really have made a difference? There was no right way to tell a person that not only did you not want to marry them, but that you no longer loved them.

She regretted letting things between them go so far. Knew she should have never accepted his marriage proposal when he asked. Had known she was doing it for all the wrong reasons. If she was honest with herself, things had started to change between them from the moment he’d moved in. She tried not to think about how it coincided with when she’d first started to notice Nikki, wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge that. She knew in her heart that she’d done the right thing where Sean was concerned, but right now with the destroyed look on his face playing over and over in her head, nothing felt right about what she’d done.

Sitting there toying with her engagement ring, she wondered how he was doing? Had he gone back to their place? The irony wasn’t lost on her how after months of struggling to think of her place as their place, now that she knew there was no chance of that happening, she’d referred to it as such. She should check if he was there? That he was all right. She owed him that much.

Picking up the receiver, she hesitated, quickly punching in the number before she could change her mind. On every ring she debated hanging up, but remained still, clutching the phone, until she heard the click of the answer phone switching on. Sean’s cheery voice floated down the line.  

_Sorry, there's no one here at the moment but if you want to leave a message for Helen or Sean please do so after the beep._

Tears filled her eyes as she hung up without leaving one. It popped in her head that she’d need to record a new outgoing message now, and then she immediately berated herself for such a callous thought.

Five minutes later, she was still sitting in the same place, when the phone rang.

Snatching it up, thinking that it might be Sean, she said breathlessly: “Hello?”

But it wasn’t Sean, it was Officer Tom Brody. “Gate here, ma'am.” Slumping in her chair she was torn between disappointment and relief. His next words saw her sitting up straight, heart leaping in her chest. “Mr. Parr's just arrived.”

“What?” Oh my god, Sean was here? She didn’t relish the idea of him confronting her in her office, had always strived to keep her work and personal life separate. But, he was here, so she didn’t really have a choice. Listening, she could still hear the women deep in song, relieved that they were occupied. And she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her two least favourite officers, Jim and Sylvia, since returning to her office, so the chances of them getting wind of her problems on the home front were thankfully slim.

Unfortunately, there was worse news to come, as Tom added: “He's gone straight through to the garden.”

Had she just heard that right? _The garden!_ Dropping the phone, she whispered: “Shit.” Jumping up, she raced out of the room.

She had a really bad feeling.

* * *

 

HELEN: GARDEN

As she neared the garden, she realised she could no longer hear singing. Entering the prison grounds, she immediately spotted Sean standing on the grass beneath the G3 windows. What was he up to? Was that his wedding suit hanging on a post? And was he dousing it in lighter fluid? Had she somehow fallen into the twilight zone?

She stumbled towards him. “Sean, what are you doing?”

Receiving no answer, she watched in horror as he held a yellow Bic to the sleeve of the jacket. Flames licked up the material arm, and pretty soon the suit was one giant fireball.

The stench of smoke stung her nostrils, and made her eyes water, her proximity to the fire searing her skin, but those sensations barely registered. Rooted to the spot, her eyes never left his, unable to comprehend that this was really happening. The man standing in front of her was barely recognisable as the man she knew. How could he be so cruel?

Giving her the coldest look anyone had ever given her, he reached into his pocket, and flung his house key at her feet. She looked down just as it hit the grass with a thud. When she looked up he was already stalking away. In a daze she bent down to retrieve them, her hand wrapping around the cold metal.

Dimly becoming aware of the commotion on the wing, she unwittingly glanced in the direction of the windows, her eyes colliding briefly with Nikki’s sympathetic ones. Turning around she walked away on feet that felt like they had magnets attached to them, the sounds of women hollering – some yelling support, others insults – drumming in her ears.

She’d reached the courtyard when she heard Nikki calling out to her. “Helen!” Looking up she saw her peering down at her from her tiny cell window. Stopping in her tracks, she wanted to answer her, but the words wouldn’t come. She needed time to gather her thoughts, get her head around what had just happened, before they spoke again.

Turning away from her, she trudged back to her office.

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G3)

Helen had actually done it – she'd ended things with Sean. Question was had she done it because of her? She hoped so.

Jesus, Sean had sure shown his true colours though. What a despicable thing to do. She never would’ve picked it, remembered she’d liked him back when she’d thought he was just the gardening teacher. Poor Helen had looked utterly devastated, as she well should. She hoped the prick hadn’t put her job in jeopardy by pulling a stunt like that? Especially not after she’d covered up Monica’s suicide attempt so Helen wouldn’t get in trouble. Surely the governing governor couldn’t hold her responsible for having a boyfriend who was a complete twat?

Even though she felt for what Helen was going through, she couldn’t prevent herself from breaking into a grin. The governor was a free agent.

Several of the women called out night calls.

“Hey Julies!” she heard Zandra yell. “Know any good busting up with your boyfriend songs?”

The Julies answered in unison. “You kidding? You name it, we know it, we've lived it!”

“Yeah,” Yvonne quipped. “But do you know the chords?”

The Julies, Zandra, as well as several other prisoners, cackled loudly with laugher. In her tiny cell, puffing away on a fag, Nikki smiled.

She wondered what Helen was doing right now? Burning Sean’s belongings in her back garden as payback? If she had a back garden that is? Nikki would’ve given anything to be there with her. Not the burning part (although she would’ve happily gone along with it), but in her flat, comforting her.

Tomorrow was Saturday, but Nikki hoped she’d see Helen on Monday. She couldn’t wait!

* * *

 

HELEN: HER FLAT

There was definitely something cathartic about throwing open your front door, and causing the guy, who’d burned you so badly, (pun intended) eyes to widen in panic to see you standing there.

It had been a week since he’d staged his effigy in the prison garden, a week since she’d been strongly advised by Stubberfield to take annual leave until things died down, because in his own words, _‘Her personal life had seriously compromised her authority on the wing, both with prisoners as well as offices.’_ In other words, thanks to Sean, she was a laughing stock, like she hadn’t already had enough problems within the walls of Larkhall to contend with.  

Yesterday, she’d arrived home from the hairdressers to find a message from her ex-fiancé on her answer phone wanting to arrange an appropriate time to come and pick up the rest of his stuff. Apparently, even though he owned a utility vehicle he hadn’t had the foresight to pack up his belongings prior to throwing his key to her flat on the grass at her feet. He’d probably been too busy researching the most effective method of burning his wedding suit, in order to create the best, most lasting impression, in front of her prisoners and colleagues.

Being the bigger person, she’d returned his call, leaving a message on his work voicemail stating that his stuff would be on her doorstep at half nine the following day. This morning she’d deliberately stayed home, using the computer to research her impending holiday to Greece, impatiently waiting for him to arrive, determined to confront him and tell him exactly what she thought of his pathetic behaviour.

At exactly half past nine (he’d always been prompt), hearing footsteps on her porch she’d jumped up and strode purposely to the door, startling Sean in the process of throwing his clothes into one of the cardboard boxes he’d brought with him.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” he stammered.

 _I bet you didn’t,_ she thought savagely.

“I’m sure It’ll come as no surprise to you that thanks to your little stunt I’m currently on leave because astonishingly enough my boss takes exception when my home life encroaches on my work one!” She got right up in his face. “How could you do that to me? Publicly embarrass me like that in front of the entire wing? You took knowledge garnered from things I shared with you, private personal things, and used it to hurt me in the most damaging way possible. All your actions have done is convince me that I was right to end things with you, because I could never love someone, marry someone, who treats me like you did.”

Sean shuffled from one foot to the other. “I was in shock, Helen. I thought things between us were solid. Even when my parents and friends thought it odd that you seemed so disinterested in getting married, I stuck up for you, told them they were wrong, that you had a lot on your plate at work. Why didn’t you tell me you were having second thoughts?”

“As soon as I realised my feelings for you had changed, that I could no longer marry you I was honest with you.” Folding her arms across her chest, she glared at him. “What did you expect me to do? Keep my doubts to myself to spare you from getting hurt? Marry you anyway? Divorce you a year or two down the track. Would that have been better?”

“Of course not!” he said indignantly, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m struggling to believe that your feelings towards me changed virtually overnight? You must have had some inkling that you were falling out of love with me? I gave you enough opportunities to tell me if you wanted to back out of our engagement, but you kept reassuring me that everything was fine and that you wanted to marry me.”

“Like I’ve told you, I didn’t know. I can’t put it any plainer than that!” Stepping over to him, she held out the square velvet box containing her engagement ring. “Here.”

He waved her away. “You keep it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want it,” she insisted. “Take it.”

Reluctantly accepting it he opened the lid. He looked at the ring for a beat before resting his gaze on her. “For what it’s worth Helen, I’m sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have done it, and once I’d calmed down I couldn’t believe I’d behaved so badly.”

“Me neither,” she said quietly, not willing to accept his apology for quite possibly ruining her career. The only way for him to make things right with her, was if he had the ability to go back in time and not turn up at the prison that day. Giving him a final look, she made to head back inside.

“Helen,” he called when she was half inside. “Was there... was there someone else?”

“Someone else?” She was momentarily thrown by the question.

“Are you in love with someone else?”

His use of a gender-neutral pronoun was interesting. Coincidental, or did he suspect about Nikki? She supposed she had given him a massive clue last week, even if she’d falsely spun the story to make it seem as if Nikki’s attention was one-sided and unwanted.

Speaking of Nikki, she decided to take a leaf out of her book, and leave Sean’s question hanging, because it really pissed her off every time the woman did it to her, so she was sure it would have the same effect on her ex.

“Not really any of your business anymore, is it Sean?” she said triumphantly, swinging the door closed in his face.

**END OF PART ONE**


	9. Part Two - Chapter 9

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G3)

From her cell window Nikki scanned the crowd of screws arriving for the day, her shoulders sagging as it registered that Helen is not among them.

It hasn’t escaped her notice, that it was from this exact spot that she’d last caught a glimpse of the governor. That fateful day a month ago when Sean Parr had humiliated her in the most public way possible.

She lingered at the window for another few minutes, just in case, but there’s still no sign of her. There’s a buzzing in her ears and a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. As much as she’s tried to convince herself otherwise it’s becoming more and more likely that Helen has abandoned her, left her to the mercy of sleazy bastards like Fenner, and cruel one’s like Bodybag. She had overheard the latter moaning to a female screw that the wing governor was due back officially today.

“If I was in her shoes,” Bodybag had complained loudy. “I would be far too embarrassed to show my face around here after what she let happen with her fiance. My Bobby would never think to behave in such an atrocious manner.”

Her catty words had left Nikki fuming – how dare that cow criticise Helen. That conversation had occurred yesterday, and she’d spent the rest of the day, and a sleeplesss night, in nervous anticipation, eagerly awaiting Helen’s return, only to find herself disappointed once again. Taking several deep breaths she told herself that there’s a reasonable explanation for Helen’s cotinued absence – that she’s just late, like she often is. She wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself with the likes of Fenner in charge. Even as she thought it, a small voice reminded her that Helen probably knew when she went on leave that he would be likely placed in charge of G-wing. Or if she hadn’t of known then she must’ve had some inkling. Hadn’t she cared?

Letting out a sigh she moved away from the window, to sink down onto her bed. After breakfast she returned to her cell for her books and slumped down the stairs, intending to study in the library.

On the G1 level, she crashed into her least favourite inmate. “Watch where you’re going, Dockley,” she snapped. Just beyond her she noticed Fenner walking away. He looked like a complete tosser in his stupid suit.

Spinning around to face her, Dockley wore a satisfied smile. “Aw, still got the glums cos your little guvvie’s gone, have ya?” she taunted. “Shame she ain’t coming back, innit?"

The bitch has been acting like the big cheese for several weeks now, gloating at every opportunity, telling anyone who’ll listen that she’ll be back on the threes any day now because unlike _Miss Stewart_ , Mr. Fenner understands that she deserves to be on G3.

To quell her anxiousness, Nikki glared at her back, still not ready or willing to acknowledge that the bleach blonde just might be right, that Helen just might have left for good.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

She strode purposely down the corridor of Larkhall.

Reaching the administration office she paused to make small talk with her secretary, Sheila.

At the door to her office she hesitated before pushing it open.

She’s aware Fenner’s been temporarily promoted to wing governor in her absence, but she’s still unprepared to see just how much he’s made himself at home in her space in the mere month she’s been gone. Dropping her handbag, and stack of files atop her desk her eyes zero in on his canary yellow mug with the reddish design, his monogrammed pen, and his calculator. Moving behind her desk, she opened the top drawer, to find a packet of fags nestled there. She wrinkled her nose in disgust – realising her entire office reeked of cigarettes. Even after opening the window (which due to safety regulations only open a crack) and dousing the room with air fresher, the stink still lingered. Upon further investigation, she retrieved her ‘Luscious Cherry’ lipstick from the bin, that he’s had the nerve to throw away. A clear indication that he thought she was gone for good. Well, she’d soon show him! With a wicked smile, she lined up the lipstick on her desk, next to her keys.

In the mirror by the bookcase she studied her reflection. She has to admit she’s looking good – a far cry from her wan appearance of a couple of months ago. Her skin is healthy and glowing, and her hair, now a couple of shades lighter, is looking better than ever. Several weeks basking in sunny Greece (as well as a good hairdresser) will do that for you.

Her holiday has given her a lot of time to think and analyse every aspect of her life. It’s clear to her now where it all went wrong and it’s time for a fresh start. Being away from Nikki has given her the much needed space to get over her once and for all. She knows that if she continues down the destructive path she’d been on before going on leave it’ll be bad for all. Reminded herself why she chose this career path in the first place – because she wanted to make a difference – and she’s more determined than ever to do so. It’s going to be difficult, dealing with Nikki, but it’ll be better for them both in the long run. There’s no future for them – she sees that now. With any luck, maybe Nikki’s feelings for her have changed? Maybe she’s met someone else? Her breath hitched at the thought, but she tamped it down, focused on what she had to do.

She’d just opened the filing cabinet to see what else Jim Fenner’s taken liberties with when she heard approaching footsteps. She knew it was Jim because Sheila called out his name.

The door opened, obscuring his view of her, giving her the element of surprise, of which she used to her full advantage.

Hearing his muttered exclamation of: “What the hell?” upon spotting her things strewn across her desk, she deliberately closed the filing cabinet  with a loud shove to alert his attention. Wearing a smug expression, she slowly stepped out from behind the door.

“Morning, Jim,” she greeted in a chirpy tone.

The way he froze in his tracks, mouth flying open was immensely satisfying. She made a point of taking a seat behind _her_ desk to reinforce to him that not only this desk, but the position of governor of G-wing, belonged to her. Then she circled a hand at the chair reserved for visitors to _her_ office, her subtle way of ordering him to sit.

She could tell that his instinct was to flee, but he sat down heavily, regarding her warily. “Obviously, I didn’t expect to find you here.”

 _Talk about an understatement,_ she thought.

She smirked: “Obviously!”

“We were beginning to wonder whether you’d had enough of us?” he fumbled.

“On the contrary,” she said sweetly, enjoying making him uncomfortable. “My flight back was cancelled.”

He shifted in his chair. “Only we didn’t know what to think, did we? Seeing as how you didn’t phone in.”

“It wasn’t easy, parked on the runway for five hours. You must’ve already been home when I got through to Simon,” she said, unable to resist the dig. She’d spoken to Simon just before five, so given that he wasn’t aware of her conversation with the Number One, led her to conclude that he’d already left the prison by then. Less than a month in her job, not even officially, and already he was making his own short hours. Not that she would’ve expected anything less from someone with such a poor work ethic. It surprised her that Simon hadn’t phoned Jim at home to warn him in advance of her return. Or to vent, as the governing governor had sounded as happy to hear from her as Jim looked right now.

“Right. Well then...” he said, making a move to stand.

“Talking of Simon,” she said, making it clear that she wasn’t finished yet, relishing the way he paused on the edge of his seat waiting. “I’ve got a meeting with him first thing. Then I want to talk to all the PO’s after morning lockup. If you can call them together please?”

“Fine. Only you’ll be missing Sylvia and Dominick McAllister. They’re both at the hospital on bed watch. Zandra Plackett went into labour yesterday.”

“Did she?” She’s happy for Zandra, even though the idea of mother’s and their new-born babies locked up in prison together is a disconcerting notion. Zandra’s past drug use worried her as well. Was she strong enough to stay clean? “Well, when they both get back then,” she finished.

“Right.” This time he did stand, heading for the door.

“Oh, Jim,” she said, forestalling him yet again. Making a show of reaching into her desk drawer, she held out his cigarettes. “I take it these are yours?” Her tone conveyed that it’s ‘no big deal’ but she can tell he’s aware she means business. The sooner he gets his crap out of her office the better!

Taking them, he muttered: “Thank you.”

Leaning back in her chair, she looked him up-and-down. Sucking her tongue between her teeth she said: “Nice suit!”

She gleefully watched him shuffle out. If this is how things are going to be between them from now on, with him walking on eggshells around her, then her second round at Wing Governor is off to a flying start.

* * *

 

NIKKI: SERVERY

“Hey, look – it's Miss Stewart!”

Nikki’s head whipped around, all the while praying that she hadn’t imagined Julie J’s wonderful words. Her heart thudded in her chest, as she spotted Helen, her eyes devouring her as she crossed the room. If anything she was looking even more beautiful and incredible than usual, but maybe that was because she’d spent the past month wondering if she’d ever see her again.

At the next table Dockley threw down her fork. “Bleedin' hell”

“Good to see you back, miss,” Julie S. called.

“Good on you guv,” Julie J. echoed.

Smiling, Nikki eyed Dockley. “Looks like Fenner’s been telling you fibs, Dockley!”

Seated across from Nikki, Yvonne grinned up at the governor. “Who needs men, eh miss?” A reference to Sean Parr’s despicable behaviour of course.

Helen stopped near her table. Nikki hoped it was deliberate, but was disappointed when the woman didn’t look her way once. “Good morning, everyone,” she announced brightly. Hearing her speak for the first time in weeks invoked a pleasant shiver in Nikki. God, how she’d missed her.

A chorus of: “Morning, Miss Stewart,” erupted around the room.

Nikki’s eyes drifted to where Fenner stood, arms folded across his chest, scowling in Helen’s direction. She recalled glaring at him on the way to her table earlier, but had been too distracted to wonder why he was back in uniform.

“I have some good news,” Helen continued. “I had a message from the hospital that last night, Zandra Plackett had a baby boy.”

Leaving the wing to celebrate the happy news, Helen made to leave. Rushing after her, desperate to speak with her, Nikki caught up with her at the gate. “Miss Stewart.”

Not even pausing in her stride, Helen kept her gaze averted. “Not now,” she said.

But Nikki stood her ground. “I need to talk to you, miss.”

Halting, Helen finally met her eyes. “When I’m ready.”

Okay, so not quite the warm reception she’d been expecting, but it didn’t dim Nikki’s smile. She’d take what she could get. The important thing was that Helen was back where she belonged and all was right with the world once more.

HELEN: HER OFFICE

“Nikki Wade for you, ma’am,” the screw said as Nikki walked into the wing governors officer early afternoon. Seemed like an unnecessary announcement since she was already halfway through the door so Helen could clearly see who it was.

From behind her desk, Helen thanked him. With an incline of her head, she said: “Take a seat.”

Smiling from ear-to-ear at the woman separated from her by a mere width of a desk, she sank down on the chair, even though it made her nervous when not only did Helen not return her smile but remained so serious. Still, being alone with her, speaking to her for the first time in weeks, overrode her doubts.

“I thought we’d better have a talk,” Helen said in a flat tone, hands clasped together on her desk, holding a pen.

“I can’t believe you’re back here,” Nikki grinned. “I was beginning to think you’d walked. You must have been through hell?”

The woman’s expression didn’t change. “I’m where I want to be now.”

Nikki’s smile slipped. What was she implying? Doubt resurfaced. “Meaning not back with Sean?” she ventured cautiously.

Her relief was palpable when Helen answered curtly. “Hardly.”

She exhaled. Of course Helen wouldn’t have taken him back but why was she being so cold? She tried again. “Couldn’t believe him turning up here like that. Had to mean you’d chucked him, though.”

But her sympathy seemed to rile Helen even more. “Nikki, I don’t want to talk about Sean,” she said firmly

Nodding uncertainly, she mumbled: “Sure. But I’m not wrong about why you couldn’t marry him, am I?” she said her eyes imploring her to give her some sign of reassurance. Better yet, admit that she’d ended things with Sean because of her feelings for her.

Helen leaned forward. “Look, Sean and I were never going to work out.”

Her hope deflated like a balloon. “Oh,” she mumbled.

“I knew that as soon as he moved in with me.”

“So, nothing to do with what you felt for me.” She sighed, frustration surging to the surface. “Why can’t you tell me I mean something to you?”

Helen’s sigh matched her own. “Of course you mean something,” she muttered.

She raised her voice. “Say that again.”

“Look,” Helen said, starting to get angry. “It doesn’t matter what the hell I feel, Nikki. You’re a prisoner in my charge. I can’t take advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t be,” she insisted. How many times did they have to go over this? She’d wrongly assumed that her giving Sean the flick had been a positive step in terms of their own relationship – that Helen was ready to open up to her. How wrong she’d been!

“Look, while it’s my job to lock you up...” she shook her head, “there’s no way we can be equal, Nikki.”

“Look, wait,” she pleaded, desperate to convince her because this couldn’t be it? This couldn’t be how it ended between them? “I’m not saying any of it’s going to be easy, but it’s not impossible, is it? Not if we both want to try?”

But Helen was unswayable. “But that’s what I’m trying to say to you,” she said, her eyes firm. “I don’t want to try and pretend that these aren’t the facts. Look, how can I do my job when I’m breaking my own rules? I’m sorry, Nikki, but there’s no way.”

“Well, you obviously care more about your bloody career than you do about me. I must be mad. Of course I’m not worth risking your precious job for — not when you can nip down the garden centre and pick up another boyfriend. Cos that’s what you’d rather have, isn’t it, Helen? Then you won’t be breaking any rules.”

Helen sucked in a breath. “I nearly didn’t come back to this.”

Nikki took ‘this’ to mean ‘her’. Because that’s what it came down to – to Helen she was just an obstacle threatening her career.

“Look,” Helen continued in no uncertain terms, every word a knife to the gut. “My back is up against the wall. This is my last chance to do some good. I want you to help me, Nikki.”

She couldn’t believe what she was asking of her. Did she think it was possible to just erase everything that had gone on between them? To work side-by-side as governor and prisoner as if they’d never had feelings for one another? Didn’t Helen realise she was in love with her? Maybe it was that simple for her, but it definitely wasn’t for Nikki.

Her anger must’ve been obvious, because Helen sat up straight, her expression grim. “Okay, go,” she instructed with a jerk of her head.

Openly glaring, she was up out of her chair, slamming the door behind her, all the happiness she’d felt upon entering her office well and truly gone. Helen had made up her mind, and it appeared there was nothing she could do to change it.

* * *

 

NIKKI: COURTYARD

Zandra was on the roof of the hospital building, far too close to the edge, her new-born baby in her arms, screaming down to them that _they_ wanted to take her baby boy from her.

Far below, in the courtyard, several of the inmates – the two Julies, Crystal, Yvonne, as well as Nikki – called out words of reassurance, imploring her to climb down but their words fell on death ears.

Feeling helpless to do anything, her heart lurched, as a familiar figure appeared on the roof above her – Helen! She breathed out her name as she watched the woman she longed for gingerly making her way across the roof, balancing precariously on bloody high heels of all things. Why couldn’t she have demanded Fenner go out there? Nikki already knew the answer, because he was an unsympathetic dick, and would have stood no chance of talking Zandra down, but why did it have to be Helen putting herself in harm’s way? Where the hell was the governing governor, what was his name? Stutterfield? Stumblefield? Oh who cared... the point was he should be the one up there risking his life... not her Helen.

“Oi, Zandra!” she heard Dockley yell from behind her. “Throw Stewart off the roof while you’re up there.” The evil bitch let out a deranged chuckle.

Denny joined in the laughter, “Good one, Shell.”

Luckily for Shell Dockley Nikki’s entire focus was on Helen’s progress, otherwise she would’ve thrown herself at Dockley and wiped the smug smile off the psychopaths face once and for all. But Shell’s words filled her with dread? A woman desperate enough to consider jumping to her death with her own baby in her arms might not think twice about taking a governor with her! Was Zandra back on the smack, or worse still, withdrawing from the drug. Either scenario made her both unpredictable and dangerous.

She closed her eyes. _Oh god. Please, be careful, Helen._

If only she could hear what was being said. Zandra looked deranged, shaking her head at Helen’s attempts to presumably reason with her, clutching her infant even tighter to her chest. Helen’s hair whipped in the wind causing Nikki to worry whether it was obliterating her vision. One wrong step up there, a slight stumble, and she could be over the edge. Come to think of it, was it possible for someone to be blown off a roof in a strong wind?

With Zandra’s attention fixated on Helen, unbeknown to her Officer McAllister was heading her way, approaching her back from the other direction. Almost unable to breath, Nikki prayed one of the more vindictive inmates (Dockley for instance) didn’t alert Zandra to McAllister’s presence because such an action could be the very thing to cause her to flip out and jump.

Still speaking, Helen took a step towards her, holding out her arms for the baby.

McAllister inched closer.

Nikki’s heart was pounding so fast, that she was surprised it didn’t erupt out of her chest. She almost jumped out of her skin when Julie J. clutched her arm.

As if they were watching a scene on telly in slow motion, Zandra raised the baby in Helen’s direction until finally the infant was safe in the governors arms.

A collective cheer broke out, only to be cut off when Zandra dived for the edge. Thankfully, McAllister was there to grab her, and Zandra dissolved into his arms, sobbing against his chest.

Smiling and clapped along with the others, Nikki decided that Helen looked good cradling a baby. Off to the side, not far from the crowd of cons, she spotted the Number One, who’s name she now remembered as Stubberfield. Trust him to stay safe down below. He’d better appreciate Helen from now on. She was the bravest person in the world, and Nikki couldn’t have been prouder. And who was that with him? Surely the pretty blonde woman at least fifteen years his junior couldn’t be his wife? Although as the prison governor, Stubberfield would’ve been on big bucks, so it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

Looking back up at Helen, who was handing the infant to Fenner, she didn’t fully relax until she’d disappeared from sight, safe within the walls of Larkhall.

* * *

 

HELEN: CORRIDOR

“Helen?"

Having just exited the Probation office, having made arrangements for Zandra’s baby, she swung around. Nikki stood on the other side of the gate, face pressed against it, hands clutching the bars. Wearing a dressing gown, toiletry bag slung over her shoulder, it was clear that she’d given the officer escorting the G3 inmates back from the showers the slip, and made her way to this corridor.

Slowly, Helen walked over, stopping on her side of the bars. “What are you doing here?” she asked gently.

Beaming, Nikki looked like a teenage girl at a concert, whose favourite boy band had just walked on stage. “I thought you were absolutely fantastic up on that roof and I'm sorry Helen...” she said, smiling down at her, brown eyes shining with adoration. “I've got to tell you – you're gorgeous. I'm totally in love with you."

Hearing Nikki say she loved her almost made her forget all the reasons why they couldn’t be together. She’d mistakenly thought she’d dealt with her feelings for the inmate, but it had been easy to tell herself it was over between them when she was far away from her. Much harder to resist, given the way Nikki was looking at her now, and she could feel her resolve weakening. Fortunately, the bars directly in front of her, always separating them, were a constant reminder of the reality of their situation.

“Nikki – “ she started to say, determined to set her straight.

“There's nothing I can do about it," the woman in front of her stated.

Helen took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain strong. “Well, I can.”

It took everything she had to turn around and walk away.


	10. Chapter 10

NIKKI: HER CELL (G3)

Her day had officially gone from bad to worse. First thing, she’d passed Helen near the entrance going in the opposite direction, and the governor had made a point of ignoring her, striding purposely past her, without even breaking her stride. Apparently the days of offering up a polite “Good morning” or, even better, a friendly “Hiya, Nikki” were over. Ten minutes ago she’d been minding her own business, lounging on her bed reading a gardening magazine, when Fenner had burst into her cell.

Waltzing over, he held out his palm, wiggling his fingers at her. “Come on, hand it over," he commanded.

Chucking down her magazine, she folded her arms, glaring up at him. “Just what is your problem, Mr. Fenner?” His attention worried her, because she had no clue what he thought she’d done. She suspected Dockley was behind his interest, because she usually was. Just what had the bitch gone and made up about her now?

“Listen, doll,” he said in a condescending manner, his agitation obvious, eyes frantically looking from side-to-side as he spoke. Not a good indication, as an out-of-control Fenner was capable of anything. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Where is it?" he said.

She sighed. “I suppose an explanation's out of the question, is it?" 

“All right. If that’s the way you want it.” Moving closer he stood over her. “Up!” In no rush to obey, she moved slowly, watching with disdain as he swept her magazine to the floor, and roughly patted down her bed messing up the covers in the process.

Breathing heavily, he straightened, swinging around to confront her, getting right up in her face. “Just tell us where it is, love?” he said through clenched teeth.

The guy had seriously lost it! “Where what is?” Did he think she was hiding drugs? But then why was he so wound up about it, as if her having drugs in her cell affected him personally? No, he had to be looking for something else. She didn’t care what it was – she just wanted this over and done with and him out of her space. A thought hit her – what if Dockley had hidden something in her cell!

“Oh, come on Wade,” he said, crossing the room. “Don’t make it hard on yourself.” Throwing open her cupboard, he pawed through her makeup and toiletries.

She flung herself across the room, yelling at him to stop. “I'm warning you, Fenner!" 

He halted, and for a moment she thought her yelling had gotten through to him, until his eyes fell to her pile of precious books, and study materials. She drew in a sharp breath. “Don't even think about it." 

A satisfied look crossed his face. “So that's where it is." 

“What?" she demanded, hoping that something in her voice would alert him to the fact that she had no idea what he was after. Anything to keep him away from her books. _Sophie’s World_ was in that pile.

“Amongst all this crap that you read,” he said tightly, flinging one of her notebooks to the floor. “Thrown it out the window, have we?" 

“You're a total bastard!" she shouted, bending down to gather up her discarded notebook.

“Hey, come on, Nikki," a familiar male voice said from the doorway. He brushed her arm causing her jerk backwards flying around. “Don't you touch me!” she cried. “You're as bad as he is!" Reacting to the sight of yet another screw invading her cell she slapped Officer McAllister across the face.

As if from far away she heard Fenner calling for assistance, vaguely heard McAllister saying her name, trying to calm her down. Then next thing she knew two nameless screws rushed into her cell and dragged her out.

Powerless, Nikki struggled against them, as they forced her along the landing, one screw cupping her roughly under the chin, while the other had a hand firmly on her head, grabbing at her hair. Only McAllister, accompanying them, held her arm gently, even as she struggled to free herself. Where the hell was Fenner? Was he still ransacking her cell? A crowd of G3 inmates were gathered near the railing, screaming abuse at the screws.

She fought them all the way down the block calling them every name under the sun, until her voice was horse. In the cell the two masochist screws finally released her. Exhausted from fighting them, and winded from shouting, she collapsed on the bed. Head throbbing she ran her hand along her aching jaw.

As the two screws headed out, McAllister paused in front of her, looking sorry. “Face it Nikki. You gave us no choice.”

“Bastards,” she managed, struggling to catch her breath.

“Some people never learn.” Fenner’s voice boomed from the doorway. “You’d better go and report this Dominick. Tell Miss Stewart that Wade is in serious trouble, and why.”

He deliberately drawled out Helen’s name to wind her up – and he succeeded – it did hurt.

Rubbing his red cheek where she’d hit him, McAllister nodded and left the cell, leaving her once again alone with the worse screw in this shithole. Advancing on her he leaned in close. He still looked troubled. “I could still let you off the hook. Just tell me where it is,” he hissed.

Obviously he hadn’t found whatever he’d thought was in her cell. She made a noise in the back of her throat, intending it to be a laugh, but due to her breathlessness she didn’t quite pull it off. “It’s in your dreams Fenner!” she mocked. “That’s where it is.”

Finally, he left her in peace. Pulling the door closed behind him, he left her in near darkness, the only sound in the tomb-like space, her own heavy breathing.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

“A tip off?” she said incredulously. “From whom?”

Facing her, Dominick hesitated. “Well, it was Jim who knew, but he wouldn't say." 

She shook her head. “Nikki Wade, taking drugs?" 

“I thought it was a bit out of character,” the young officer admitted. “But then she got all defensive and she hit me." 

“But you didn't find anything?" she probed.

He shook his head. “No.” 

Sighing, she turned her back on him. “All right, Dominick, thank you. I’ll look into this straightaway." 

After he’d left she sank down into her chair at a complete loss over what to do next. Jesus, she’d only been back in the job a week and her high hopes for smooth sailing were well and truly dashed. Why couldn’t the bloody woman stay out of trouble for five minutes? She was afraid to face her, so soon after Nikki had told her she loved her. She needed more time to get her feelings under control, but that wasn’t an option. As wing governor it was her responsibility to get to the bottom of this.

She was certain Nikki wouldn’t have had drugs in her cell, but was she hiding something else? Or had she provoked Fenner, and slapped Dominick, to get her attention? It angered her not only that she’d assaulted one of her officers, but that she might have done it for such a ridiculous reason. Another question plagued her. Where had Jim gotten his information from regarding Nikki that he wasn’t willing to share? What was the man up to now? How was she going to begin to deal with any of this?

* * *

 

HELEN: CORRIDOR

She confronted Jim as he was leaving for the day. “I gather you had a problem with Nikki Wade?" 

“I think that's putting it mildly," he said, attempting to move past her. 

Infuriated by his blatant dismissal of her, she blocked his exit. “You searched her cell without another officer present." 

“She's up to something. I had to move quick." 

He sounded paranoid. She raised her eyebrows. “Really." 

“Listen, just trust me, will you?" he said, brushing by her.

Trust him? Not a chance? Secrecy doesn’t equate to trust. Keeping her back to him, she called: “I don't think I like this unorthodox approach of yours, Jim."

He stopped in the doorway, just as she pivoted to face him. “Well. I know you have a _special_ interest in Nikki Wade.” Sick to the back teeth of him calling it a ‘special interest’ every time she challenged him over his unfair treatment of Nikki, she glared at him.

“I'll call you every time I have dealings with her in future, shall I?" he suggested sarcastically.

 _If that’s what it takes for you to follow protocol,_ she thought.

Not prepared to entertain this ridiculous line of conversation, she shadowed him into the locker room. “Did you find anything?" she demanded.

That stopped him in his tracks. “No,” he admitted. “Not this time.” Seeming to remember that she was his boss, he finally opted to speak to her in a manner that an officer should use when addressing a wing governor. “Look I know I’m not on her Christmas card list, but she took a swing at Dominick,” he reminded her, as if she needed reminding. “I’d say she had something to hide, wouldn’t you?”

He had a point she concurred. Cutting him some slack she said: “Okay. I just want to make the most informed decision I can." 

“I've seen prisoners shipped out for less." 

That got her back up. “Let me be the judge of what happens, alright?" she snapped, stalking away. It killed her that he might be right. She was running out of options where Nikki was concerned. As much as she cared for her, she would not allow Nikki to make a fool of her professionally – she’d already been through that with Sean. She had already warned Nikki that if she continued to rock the boat she’d be left with no choice but to transfer her to another prison.

* * *

 

NIKKI: THE BLOCK

The door swung open, and a pissed off looking Helen, posture ram-rod straight, strode into the cell, not stopping until she was inches from Nikki’s face. “Okay, Nikki, this is it. I have given you every chance to make things better for yourself in here.”

She looked away, lowering her eyes. “Lucky they’re still alive!”

“Oh,” the governor drawled. “That’s really intelligent talk.”

“Do you honestly think that I’ve got drugs in my cell?” she asked, shooting her a hurt look.

“If an officer suspects you of having – “

Oh, not this again. Back to defending her officers who could do no wrong, was she? “Don’t give me that!” she yelled. “Fenner’s as bent as they come, and you know it!” Leaping up from the bed, she paced to the other side of the room, turning her back to her.

But there was no chance of getting away from someone in a tiny locked room. Hot on her heels Helen followed her over, resuming her position of standing in front of her, looming over her, expression more furious than ever. “I will not have allegations of that kind made against my staff!” she raged. “You're already on the block for a week. You'll lose your Enhanced over this. Don't make things any worse for yourself!" 

Again she walked away from her, returning to the bed, sitting down with a thud. “Well, the bastard was chucking my books around!" 

Helen stormed across, the cell, getting right up in her face. “You only have those books because of me! Any more of this crap and I will take them away!" 

“What?"  _Did she really just say that?_

“You heard!"  _Okay, she really had. Surely she didn’t mean it?_

Nikki said: “You're only behaving like this because you can't handle it! So why don't you give in, miss, and stick your tongue down my throat?" Staring her down she dared her to do it – would’ve given anything for her to shove her up against the wall and kiss her.

Instead, Helen turned on her heel, and stalked across the room. At the door she turned back to face her. “You just don't get it, do you, Nikki?" 

Nikki closed her eyes. No, she really didn’t.

* * *

Sick of waiting, the next day saw Nikki leaning on the emergency buzzer, preparing to demand of whoever answered that Helen be sent for.

A blonde screw, the same woman Nikki had mistaken for Simon Stubberfield’s wife the day Zandra had attempted suicide, was the one to turn up. She arched a brow. “Well?" 

“Is that an interjection?” Nikki snapped. “Or an inquiry after my health?" 

The woman smiled, clearly not intimidated in the least. “Oh, don't get smart with me, Nikki." 

“Who are you, anyway?” she said rudely, even though she could clearly see that her ID tag read _Principal Officer Karen Betts._ “It's Helen Stewart I want to see." 

“Is it now?” Betts said still looking amused. “Well, I better warn you – I'm not the kind of officer who runs errands for prisoners." 

Still hoping to get a rise out of her, Nikki said: “Well, as long as you piss off when I ask you to, frankly, I couldn't give a toss." 

But the screw merely tilted her head to the side. “I can’t work out if you want trouble?” she said evenly. “Or whether you’re just stupid? But either way you’re in for it.”

Nikki shot her an ‘I’m so scared look’. “Oh, golly.”

As though their conversation had summoned her, Helen materialised at Betts’ side. “Everything alright?" she asked, avoiding looking Nikki’s way.

“The prisoner's been demanding to see you,” the blonde screw informed her, glancing over at Nikki before turning her attention to Helen, “in language of an insulting nature. I'm putting her on report," she said, walking out. 

Oh, big frigging deal, Nikki thought. She was already down the block. What was the point of putting her on report?

Banging the door closed, Helen crossed the room. “So, no improvement in your behaviour?” Pressing her lips together, Nikki said nothing. “Is that a no?" Helen pressed.

“It’s a piss off, like I just gave that other tart!" she said, speaking slowly, enunciating every word. “Are you gonna put me on report as well?” 

“Why are you being like this?” Helen said, her voice shaking. Moving closer, her eyes bored into hers. “Can’t you see what you’re doing to me?" 

Because it was always about her. “And what about what you’re doing to me?" she threw back at her.

“Don’t make this any harder for me!" she begged.

“Yeah,” Nikki agreed. “It must be hard – getting angry with someone you’ve snogged." 

As always the woman was in perpetual denial. Shaking her head, she said: “Oh please, Nikki. Be serious." 

“I want to make love to you all night long,” she said huskily. “Is that serious enough?" 

The governor jerked her head backwards, looking stunned. Nikki couldn’t believe she’d had the nerve to say such a thing, but now that she’d started speaking she decided it was time for the governor to learn a few home truths. “I know I knock Fenner,” she said harshly. “At least when he fancies a con, he’s got the courage to _give_ her one!”

An aching silence followed. Helen looked mad as hell.

Then she was out the door, slamming it closed.

Nikki knew she was pushing her luck big time – but she really didn’t give a shit anymore!

* * *

About an hour later the door opened again, and three screws, Karen Betts among them filed into the room, forming a half-circle around her.

She eye-balled them, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach. “What’s going on?”

It was Betts who answered. “Get up, Nikki. We're moving you out." 

So, telling a wing governor that you wanted to make love to her, were the words that finally tipped the scales.

After she’d changed, and been issued her belongings, Betts escorted her to the prison van where Helen waited.

Reaching the door to the van she pleaded: “At least tell me where I'm going?" She just wanted to hear her voice one last time.

But Helen remained tight-lipped, refusing to even give her that one last tiny thing. Things between them had deteriorated so much that Helen didn’t even think she deserved to know where she was going. Did she even see her as a person anymore?

So this was how it ended between them? With not even a goodbye.

* * *

 

HELEN: HER OFFICE

She couldn’t believe what she’d done. That she’d actually sent Nikki away. She’d failed her as her wing governor – had abused her position, and Nikki was the one who was outwardly suffering the consequences, even if inwardly it felt like she was the one dying inside.

When Nikki had asked where she was being sent she’d bitten down hard on the inside of her cheek unable to answer, sure that if she’d opened her mouth at that moment she would’ve burst out crying. Watching the van drive away had torn her apart. She’d wanted to run after it, screaming at the driver to stop, but she’d remained rooted to the spot, watching as it turned left out of the prison gates, until it was out of sight.

So caught up in her own anguish was she that she couldn’t recall the journey back to her office. Several times she’d found her fingers gravitating towards the phone on her desk, imagined herself dialling ‘allocations’, informing them there’d been a huge mistake, that she’d changed her mind, that she wanted Nicola Wade returned to Larkhall immediately – but she didn’t.

Early afternoon, feeling like the walls were closing in on her, she’d left her office, only to run into Jim in the corridor. In a haughty tone she’d informed him that he’d gotten his wish, that Nikki had been shipped out late morning. She phrased it like she thought it was entirely his fault because even though she knew it had been her own doing, it was easier to blame him, citing his dislike for Nikki as a reason. Surprisingly the news had appeared to shock him, which made her feel even worse about her decision. Maybe Jim was the kind of man who boosted about sending a difficult prisoner away, but would never really do it? Unlike her!

Back in her office she stumbled across Nikki’s file on her desk, and was unable to hold back the tears. Sniffing she ran her fingers over the tiny square photograph of Nikki attached to the front of the folder, unable to comprehend that she’d never see her again.

* * *

“Shell, you’d better not be making this up?” she said firmly, from her position near the inmate’s chair.

Karen Betts had just brought the woman to her office after finding her lying on the floor of her cell, injured and crying, claiming she’d been beaten up by Jim Fenner. Just prior to entering Shell’s cell, Karen had witnessed the man in question leaving her room, wiping his hands with his handkerchief. He’d made it sound like Shell had attacked him, and that he’d just been defending himself but the fact that he hadn’t stuck around and was currently AWOL was suspicious. As bad as things were looking for Jim, Michelle Dockley was by no means the most reliable or trustworthy prisoner. Helen could see her lying to get back at him if he’d done something she hadn’t liked, or to save her own skin. On the other hand she’d never been comfortable with the way Fenner behaved around Shell, and had been suspicious of him since being told by both Nikki and Denny Blood that he’d been having sex with Rachel Hicks. She just hadn’t been able to prove it. With Shell’s admission maybe she could get him out of Larkhall once and for all but she needed more information.

“It's true, miss,” Shell sniffed. He thought..." She trailed off, sobbing.

Helen felt terrible, interrogating the poor woman, while she sat before her bloodied and bruised, but she needed answer’s while it was still fresh in Shell’s mind. Didn’t want to give her time to fabricate a different story, or clam up altogether. She grabbed a tissue from the box on her desk and handed it to her. “He thought what?" she asked.

Shell accepted the tissue gratefully, dabbing at her nose. “He thought I was ringing his wife. Someone's told her I was having an affair with him."

“And were you?" Helen’s eyes met Karen’s, whose sickened expression Helen was sure mirrored her own

Shell nodded. “Yes miss. He's been forcing me to."

Feeling light-headed, appalled that this had been happening on her wing, right under her nose, she moved behind her desk and sank down in her chair. “How long's this been going on?"

“He’s been doing it for years. He said if I told anyone he’d kill me. He done the same to Rachel Hicks.”

She repeated the words back to her needing to confirm the facts. “He had sex with Rachel?”

The inmate nodded again, swiping the tissue across her nose. “At first he thought it was Nikki Wade ringing her. That's why he gave her cell a spin. He wound her up so she'd do something stupid, get herself shipped out. Then he realised it couldn’t of been Nikki so he turned on me."

Oh my god! During Shell’s speech her agitation grew. Why hadn’t she paid closer attention to what Nikki had been trying to tell her, instead of flying off the handle, wrongly thinking that Nikki’s main motivation that been revenge against her. “Why would he do that?” 

“He found a mobile phone in my cell,” Shell admitted. A panicky look crossed her face. “I know I done wrong miss. But I was only ringing my friends. I never phoned his wife, honest! Be pretty stupid of me wouldn’t it?”

“Is there anything else you want to tell me?” she checked.

She shook her head. “No miss. That’s it.”

Helen eyes flitted to her split lip, black eye, and the dried blood at the corner of her mouth. Fenner was going to pay for this, she vowed.

“You’d better go and get some treatment,” she said kindly. “Miss Betts will take you to medical.”

They were barely out the door and she was already making a grab for the phone. “Put me through to Allocations,” she instructed, holding her breath.

She’d made a dreadful mistake. Would Nikki forgive her?

* * *

 

NIKKI: HER CELL (G3)

What had changed?

She’d just spent the better part of the day handcuffed in the back of a van, being thrown around like a rag doll, only to end up right back where she’d started. Not only that, she’d been escorted back onto the wing, instead of down the block, and no one had bothered to tell her why. She’d concluded it had something to do with Fenner as she’d entered the servery to find the inmates, led by Dockley, yelling obscenities at his retreating back. She hoped he was in major shit!

Looking around her bare cell, eyes landing on the plastic bag filled to the brim with her belongings, she thought she should probably unpack but there didn’t seem to be much point until she knew where she stood.

Right on lockdown a wrung out looking Helen arrived at her door. Wending her way over she sank down right next to her bringing to mind the only other time they’d sat like this, in almost this exact spot – the night of their first and only kiss. The memory made her heart beat faster.

“Nikki, I want to apologise. You told me you were provoked by Fenner. I have reason to believe you now." 

Slouching against the wall, knees pulled up with her feet planted on the bed, Nikki let out a snort of disbelief. “Oh, well bloody marvellous. I’m shipped around the country in a cattle truck while you work out the obvious." 

She shook her head. “I said I’m sorry." 

Frowning, Nikki studied her closely, wondering what had led up to this miraculous one-eighty. “So what’s brought this on then?" she asked. 

“Fenner’s just been suspended. Over a suspected relationship with an inmate." 

“Not Shell Dockley, by any chance?" 

Shifting her head closer, she said: “Listen Nikki, about what happened today...” She paused before continuing. “I let my emotions cloud my professional judgement. I thought I could fight them, I was stupid." 

Wow, that was undoubtedly the longest, most revealing admission Helen had ever made in regards to her feelings for her, but instead of relief she worried what had prompted her to open up all on a sudden. “What are you saying?" 

Helen took a deep breath. “I won’t be looking after your case anymore." 

A cold feeling rushed through her. “What?”

“I’ve resigned." 

She straightened so fast that her feet slid off the bed, thumping to the floor. “Helen, you can’t do this to me, this isn’t fair." 

“Listen, I’ve just suspended Jim Fenner when I’m guilty of the same offense. In thought, if not in deed." 

Nikki dearly wished she’d never thrown Fenner’s name in her face this morning. She’d planted the idea in her head, led her to believe that what they were doing was the same as what Fenner had done with Dockley and Rachel Hicks, when their relationship was nothing like it. They were in love – well at least she was in love with Helen, and she thought that she just might be in love with her as well but just hadn’t realised it yet.

“So, what now?" she asked reluctantly, dreading the answer. 

“Well, I’m not your jailer anymore...”

 _Don’t remind me,_ Nikki thought, looking away.

“Which means I can do this,” Helen said. Scooting closer, she cupped her face in her hands, and tilting her head to the side, kissed her. The first touch of her lips was cautious, fleeting, but then she grew bolder, her kisses increasing in length. As sweet and wonderful as they were Nikki knew it was her way of saying goodbye. Breaking free, her head drooped.

A line dented Helen’s forehead. “What?" she said softly, touching her shoulder.

“Say you’ll visit me?” she begged. When she didn’t answer she repeated the request. “Please... say you’ll visit me." 

Helen looked so conflicted that for a hopeful moment Nikki thought she was going to say ‘yes’ – but then she shook her head and all hope was lost. “Nikki, it’s too difficult." 

“Helen, you can’t leave me like this,” she choked out, close to tears. “This is shit!" 

Reaching up, Helen stroked her cheek, her expression tortured. “Shit happens,” she whispered.

Nikki watched her walk out of her life, tears coursing down her cheeks.


	11. Chapter 11

HELEN: SAINSBURY’S

Wandering aimlessly up-and-down the supermarket aisles, Helen threw random food items into her trolley. The tin of Campbell’s tomato soup represented Simon Stubberfield’s bald head, and she watched with satisfaction as it bounced off the metal side of the trolley before hitting the bottom. Heinz’s baked beans followed – Fenner! It still astounded her that even after everything that had transpired today, Stubberfield was still so blind when it came to the ghastly prick of a man.

Who would the Number One appoint to replace her? Thank god Fenner was on suspension, otherwise there was no doubt in her mind that it would’ve been him. Karen Betts seemed the logical choice – she was a principal officer, and she and Simon shared a professional history. Although, when had Simon ever been logical, and given how he felt about women in a position of power, Karen was likely out of the running. Unless the principal officer was the type of women who towed the line and didn’t make waves – then she and Simon would get on fine. Having only worked with her for a couple of days Helen hadn’t really had the opportunity to get to know her but from what she’d observed, in particular her actions in regards to the Fenner/Shell situation, she seemed honest and fair, and not easily manipulated. A worry line dented her forehead as it occurred to her that Karen and Nikki had clashed earlier today. Had that really only been today? It seemed like weeks ago. She hoped Karen wouldn’t hold a grudge against Nikki, or more to the point prayed Nikki would behave herself, and not make trouble.

Halting in her tracks, her hands gripped the trolley handle. Why was she thinking about all this? She was out of Larkhall for good, it wasn’t her job anymore to stress over what went on there – Nikki’s welfare was no longer her responsibility. Except it was, as she could no longer deny that she cared deeply for the inmate. Only hours ago she’d told Nikki as much. Kissed her, and meant it – the thrill of their lips touching seared into her brain. She’d ended things with Sean because she’d thought she might be in love with her – correction, she was in love with her. She couldn’t erase any of that, no matter how much a large part of her wanted to. Needless to say, Nikki remained in her thoughts the rest of the way around Sainsbury’s.

She was placing the groceries in the boot when it struck her that she couldn’t leave Nikki to fend for herself, trapped in prison, all alone, with corrupt officers like Fenner working in the prison system. And there was no doubt in her mind that his suspension was temporary – his little mate Stubberfield would see to that. Fenner was dangerous and calculating, and would find a way to worm his way back in. It was clear that he had it in for Nikki. She had to do something to help and protect her, but what? It wasn’t as if she could break her out of prison? No, but she could look into the legalities of her case. Research similar cases to hers, find out what sentences they’d been given.

Another thought struck her, and she stopped by Waterstones on her way home. She’d been there a couple of months back and had seen something in the book shop that reminded her of Nikki.

In her kitchen she made quick work of putting away the groceries, and sat down at her kitchen table to write.  

* * *

 

NIKKI: G2 LANDING

Sulking, and not wanting to speak to anyone, she was hiding out on the G2 landing, even though her cell wasn’t on this level. Helen, the one bright spot in her sorry life, had finally opened up to her, kissed her, and then two minutes later, opted to leave her. Once again she was abandoned, with nine years to go on her sentence, and nothing to look forward to. If she hadn’t of been so hard on Helen during her final days in Larkhall – made things tougher for her than they already were, would she have stayed? Had her actions driven her away?

Her agony must’ve been written all over her face, because a passing McAllister, carrying a stack of letters, stopped next to her, regarding her with concern. “You all right, Nikki?”

Did he know yet that Helen had resigned? None of the screws or cons had brought it up, and she was sure if Dockley had of gotten wind of it she would’ve taunted her by now. “No,” she said, in a flat voice. 

“Well, I thought you’d be celebrating, now Jim Fenner’s gone,” he remarked.

Under normal circumstances she would’ve been ecstatic, but at the moment not even that could lift her spirits.

Sighing heavily, she was all sarcasm. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll crack the champagne open later.”

Giving up, he walked away. A few steps later he turned back. “One for you,” he said, holding out a brown envelope.

“What?” she said, seizing hold of it in wonder. It had been months since anyone had written to her – not since Trish. Was that who it was from?

Peering inside the envelope, she retrieved a postcard.

_Recognise this? H._

A warm feeling raced down her spine. Helen! Smiling, she turned the card over. It was a painting of George Eliot.

_Recognise this?_

Was Helen referring to the time they’d collided in the servery when she’d asked her about _Middlemarch_ , or to their conversation in her cell regarding _Silas Marner?_ Maybe she intended it to mean both?

Returning to the envelope she realised that Helen had also included a letter. Heart in her chest, she pulled free the yellow sheet of paper. It pissed her off to think that one of the screws might have not only read Helen’s words, but read them before her. But then she remembered that McAllister had been on mail duty this morning, and from what she knew of him couldn’t picture him invading inmate’s privacy. Well he’d better not have anyway. After studying the folded pages carefully she was satisfied they hadn’t been tampered with. With trembling fingers she opened the letter.

_Dear Nikki,_

_I owe you an apology for the way I left things. I know how much my sudden resignation must have hurt you, and I’m sorry. The last thing I said to you is a particular source of embarrassment for me. Forgive me. I’ve thought about it, and I want to try, if you still want to?_

_Stay positive – concentrate on your reading, gardening, and especially your studies. You have an exam coming up, don’t forget? Nikki, I should’ve warned you that I don’t think F will be gone for long. If he does return I need you to promise me that you’ll steer clear of him – don’t antagonise him in any way. If you do feel threatened talk to OM. He can be trusted._

_It’s early days, but I have some ideas up my sleeve that I’m excited about, things I’ll divulge to you as soon as I know more._

_I’ll be in touch._

_Take care._

_H._

_I’ve thought about it, and I want to try._ The best words she’d ever read in her life. Helen’s round-a-bout way of telling her that she wanted a relationship with her, while being careful not to make anyone reading the letter suspicious.

_If you still want to?_ Of course she did. No question.

What had she meant by ‘ideas’? She couldn’t wait to find out.

‘OM’ obviously meant Officer McAllister, her current personal officer, since Lorna Rose had been fired. As much as she wanted to believe Helen, she wasn’t sure if she could trust him.

Practically running for the stairs, she rushed to her cell to write Helen. Her hope was back.

* * *

 

NIKKI: SERVERY

She’d written two letters to Helen now, excitedly informing her that she’d thought her exam had gone without a hitch, as well as telling her that Karen Betts had been promoted to her job. She’d also mentioned that she’d been assigned a new personal officer – Di Barker – and that if she’d thought Lorna Rose had been cheerful and enthusiastic she had nothing on Barker – the woman was positively nauseating. Then she’d told her the depressing news, that she’d been right! As of last week Fenner had returned. Even though Helen had warned her it was likely, it’d still been a shock to see him strutting onto the wing looking like he’d won, and let’s face it he had won. First thing he’d done upon spotting her was to gloat that she’d better be careful, because she was no longer teacher’s pet. She wasn’t sure how his reinstatement had come about, but after claiming for days that Fenner had slapped her about, Dockley had abruptly changed her story, telling Betts that she’d made the whole thing up.

With some reluctance she’d gone on to inform Helen that Bodybag was currently on sick leave after ‘slipping’ and falling down the stairs. Of course she hadn’t mentioned her role in it. It had been intended as a warning, a little scare to pay the woman back for wrecking things for Julie J. with her kids. The Julies had deliberately over-polished the stairs, and then when Bodybag had lost her balance while climbing them, Nikki had caught her just in time, intending to imply that that there were many dangers in Larkhall, and that she’d better watch her step in future. But it had all gone wrong, the inmates, Zandra, Yvonne, and the two Julies in particular, had pushed forward, crowding around the screw on the tiny landing, causing her to fall backwards. Well at least Nikki chose to believe she’d slipped – she’d been too far back to see. She felt guilty, not because Hollamby had been hurt (the woman deserved it for the way she treated them) but because she’d ignored Helen’s advice to stay off the screw’s radar. Although, she wasn’t in trouble, nor were any of the others, since fall had been deemed an accident – even if Betts hadn’t been entirely convinced.

Two weeks after Helen’s departure she was eating her lunch, minding her own business, when she witnessed Dockley entering a new arrival’s (Barbara Hunt) cell. Reluctant to play ‘head prefect’ but concerned for the woman’s safety, she abandoned her meal to follow.

But she needn’t have bothered. Upon entering the room, she was shocked to find an agitated Dockley, crouched on the floor scraping dropped food onto a plate with a plastic fork, before rushing from the room to get a cloth. She shot Barbara a startled look. The woman smirked: “Whoops-a-daisy.”

Creeped out, Nikki decided to avoid her in future as there was something really off-putting about her. Besides, it was obvious the woman could take care of herself, and wouldn’t need her help in future.

Hearing McAllister calling her name, she hurried out, leaving Hunt to her own devices.

Situated near the stairs, he handed her another brown envelope.

She looked down at it, pleased as punch.

McAllister continued to hover near her side. “Thought I recognised the handwriting.”

“You read it?” she accused.

He looked offended. “I don’t, do I? Anyway, Miss Barker checked them today. Though I was wondering... I’ve not heard from Helen since she left. Be nice to know she’s okay.”

“Would it?” she said nastily, not giving him an inch. Why would he think he’d hear from her? Helen was none of his business.

After reading her latest George Eliot postcard, she took pity on him. Remembered Helen saying in her first letter that she could trust him. “Dominick,” she called after him. “Don’t worry, she’s fine." 

He grinned.

She reread the postcard.

_Have V.O. Will C.U. soon. H._

With the last letter she’d sent Helen she’d included a ‘Visitor Order’ hoping to change her mind about visiting her. She knew it was difficult – knew it would look bad, a former wing governor coming to see one of her inmates, but she had to try, as she desperately missed her.

And her ploy had worked – Helen had agreed!

* * *

 

HELEN: VISITORS ROOM

The days leading up to ‘Visiting Day’ at Larkhall dragged.

She’d been disappointed to learn that Nikki had lost her Enhanced status following a fight with an inmate. Although her disappointment was aimed at Karen, rather than Nikki, because she’d been defending herself from an attack by a disturbed woman who had been mistakenly released on the wing. The woman had pretended to be Barbara Hunt when she was in fact Tessa Spall, a new arrival intended for the psychiatric wing. Surely, under the circumstances, Nikki should’ve been allowed back on G3? Although Nikki hadn’t sounded concerned in her letter, seemed happy to be sharing a cell with the real Barbara Hunt, and had pointed out that the move had been a straight out swap with Yvonne Atkins, and she didn’t want her friend to lose her new status because of her.

On the day of her visit she spent a while fussing over her clothes, hair, and makeup, wanting to look good. If felt strange parking in the lot reserved for visitors, entering the prison as a civilian, handing over her handbag for safekeeping because it wasn’t permitted in areas prisoners occupied. Apologising profusely, an officer patted her down, even though she assured him it was okay, and that she understood that he was just doing his job.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she waited with nervous anticipation – five minutes, ten minutes - until finally an officer opened the door, and escorted the visitors inside.

Walking into the room she immediately spotted Nikki, seated at a table in the centre of the room. Her pulse quickened as their eyes met, and they held each other’s gazes as she crossed the space. It felt like an eternity before she reached her.

Feeling weak in the knees, she was grateful to reach the chair. “Hiya Nikki," she said, smiling so widely her cheeks ached.

Nikki’s smile was just as warm and welcoming. “I wasn't sure you'd come,” she said her voice heavy with emotion.

“I said I would."

“Yeah, but it wasn't that long ago I thought I'd never see you again,” Nikki said. “You still looking for work?"

She nodded slowly. “I’ve got one or two irons in the fire."

“Yeah?”

Not yet ready to share her progress on that front, she drew out a long breath and said: “I missed you, Nikki."

“Missed you. Since you left..." Looking down, she paused.

“Well, I'm here now," Helen reassured.

Nikki looked down at the table. “’Till you get bored of coming. Or ‘till you meet someone else, like Trish did."

Ever the pessimist, Helen thought affectionately. She longed to reach out and touch her, take her hand, but it was out of the question. There were eyes everything – just across the room in fact in the form of Sylvia Hollambly.

“Listen,” she said, leaning forward. “You never know what's going to happen."

“Yeah, right. Still got nine years to do, remember?"

Okay, time to come clean, tell her what she’d been doing the past few weeks. Well, some of it anyway. “I wanna talk to you about that,” she said seriously. “I think you should appeal."

Unfortunately Nikki just looked confused. “I don't want to be getting my hopes up, just to have them dashed."

“Honestly, Nikki, there's been a lot of cases a lot more serious than yours that have had a successful appeal."

She shook her head. “Waste of time innit?" she said lightly.

“Look,” Helen said. “Let me put it another way. Will you do it for me?" It had worked on her once before, when she’d been trying to convince Nikki to enrol in an English course at the Open University, and she hoped it would be just as successful on this occasion.

And it was. “I'd do anything for you,” Nikki told her, her eyes brimming with tenderness. “You know that."

“Good,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. “Well that's it settled."

They smiled at one another unaware of anything and everyone else, until a loud intrusive voice broke the spell.

“All right,” Hollamby announced. “Time’s up!”

Helen sighed inwardly. Already? “I'd better go,” she said, reluctantly climbing to her feet. She noticed Jim Fenner standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Sylvia, disbelief and disgust written over both their faces. When had he entered the room? It still appalled her that Stubberfield continued to allow him to work in a woman’s prison. Shell Dockley may have retracted her statement, but she had no doubt that there was at least some truth in what the inmate had accused him of. Ignoring their stares, she focused on saying goodbye to the only person in the room who mattered.

“I'll see you soon," Nikki said, sounding anxious.

Smiling, she nodded. “Yes, you will. Be good.” If only she could give her a hug goodbye. She settled for words of reassurance. “And remember, we're going to make this work. I promise."

Leaving was difficult, but given what she had planned, she reminded herself that it wasn’t for long.

* * *

 

NIKKI: LIBRARY

A few days later Nikki sat in the library so absorbed in _The Portrait of a Lady_ that she failed to notice someone entering the room until they were standing over her.

She looked up just in time to see Helen place her hand on the cover of the book in order to read the title. “That's a bit heavy going for a no-hoper like you," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Almost speechless, struggling to grasp that the former governor is actually standing right next to her, she blurted: “What are you doing here?"

Sliding into a chair next to her, Helen gave her a teasing look. “One of those irons in the fire I was telling you about."

Eyes wide, she connected the dots. “You... you got a job here?" Oh, please say it’s true!

Nodding, she grinned. “Prison Service Professional."

“What?" she breathed, still unable to comprehend how wonderful Helen’s words are.

“I’m working for Area Management – special programme for women lifers.” She tapped the table with her knuckles. “I'm back on your case. Literally."

They giggled together like two schoolgirls reading a naughty bit in a romance novel, so happy to have found a way to be back together.

 


End file.
